Library  of 

The  University  of  North  Carolina 


COLLECTION  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINIANA 


ENDOWED  BY 

JOHN  SPRUNT  HILL 
of  the  Class  of  1889 


C*i2-  £  f  {  r  \ 


FOR  USE  ONLY  IN 


THE  NORTH  CAROLINA  COLLECTIO 


Form  No.  A-368,  Rev.  8/95 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


https://archive.org/details/fourplays02coop 


f 


QUEEN  CITY  PRINTING  CO..  CHARLOTTE.  N.  C. 


! .  “A  Christian  Slave.” 

2.  ”1  Do.” 

3.  ‘‘At  the  Sign  of  the  Sturgeon’s  Head.” 

4.  ‘‘Uncle  Tommy’s  Harem.” 


FOUR  PLAYS 


Written  and  produced  during  the  year  1923 
by  members  of  The  Dramatic  Club  of 
Davidson  College. 

W.  J.  COOPER 

and 

E.  T.  WOOLFOLK 

Editors 


Davidson,  N.  C. 

The  Blue  Pencil  Club 

Of  Sigma  Upsiton 
1923 


Copyrighted  1923  by  The  Blue  Pencil  Club  of 

Sigma  Upsilon 

Permission  of  “ The  Davidson  College  Maga¬ 
zine’  to  use  copyrighted  material  is  acknowl¬ 
edged. 

Acting  rights,  professional  and  amateur,  are 
fidly  reserved  and  all  persons  whomsoever  are 
hereby  cautioned  against  unauthorized  pro¬ 
duction.  For  permission  to  produce  applica¬ 
tion  should  be  made  to  B.  J .  Brzvin,  Davidson, 

North  Carolina , 


Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 

The  Queen  City  Printing  Co.,  Charlotte,  N.  C. 


FZZal 


To 

Edward  Jones  Erwin 

Director  of 

The  Dramatic  Club 

and 

National  President  of  Sigma  Upsilon 


t 


> 


PREFA  CE 


/N  offering  these  plays  to  the  reading  pub¬ 
lic  the  Editors  are  fully  aware  of  their 
many  deficiencies.  But  they  represent  the 
zvork  of  a  group  of  earnest  amateurs  and  we 
hope  that  the  reader  will  absorb  some  of  their 
enthusiasm  and  so  pass  over  the  crudities  with 
a  not  too  critical  eye. 

The  plays  zvere  selected  from  some  seven  or 
eight  written  by  members  of  The  Dramatic 
Club  during  the  collegiate  year  1922-23.  In 
selecting  the  titles  for  inclusion  an  effort  was 
made  to  select  plays  as  unlike  their  theme  and 
treatment  as  possible,  which,  of  course  necessi¬ 
tated  the  exclusion  of  some  really  good  plays. 
IV e  believe  that  the  plays  that  were  selected  for 
inclusion  shozv  quite  a  bit  of  dissimilarity — it 
is  a  far  cry  indeed  from  “A  Christian  Slave’' 
to  “I  Do'’  and  “At  the  Sign  of  the  Sturgeon  s 
Head”  is  decidedly  different  from  either  of 
them.  While  “I  Do”  and  “Uncle  Tommy's 
Harem”  have  some  points  of  similarity,  espe¬ 
cially  to  the  casual  reader;  a  more  careful 
perusal  zvill  tend  to  bring  out  their  many  dif¬ 
ferences  which  zvere  evident  in  the  productions. 

In  preparing  the  plays  for  publication  it  zvas 
decided  to  omit  matter  explanatory  to  the  ac¬ 
tion  as  far  as  possible,  believing  that  it  were 
better  to  give  the  reader’s  imagination  freer 
play.  Should  anyone  desire  to  produce  any 
of  the  plays  The  Dramatic  Club  will  be  glad  to 
furnish  such  details  of  their  production  as 
might  be  desired. 


It  might  he  of  interest  to  state  that  all  of  the  plays  in  this 
volume  were  written  by  members  of  The  Blue  Pencil  Club  of 
Sigma  Upsilon,  the  national  literary  fraternity. 

IV.  J.  C. 
ifi.  T.  W. 


FOUR  PLAYS 


“A  Christian  Slave" 

CHARACTERS 
(In  Order  of  Appearance) 
CALIPH 
BORZIAN 
MEDEVAH 
KADMIEL 
ROMENA 

The  rising  of  the  curtain  discloses  a 
room  in  the  interior  of  the  palace  of  the 
CALIPH,  a  ruler  in  a  province  of  the 
Turkish  empire.  At  the  right  rear  is 
the  dais,  surmounted  by  a  canopy  of 
purple  and  scarlet  silk.  On  the  left  of 
the  throne  a  brazen  incense  bowl  sends 
up  zvisps  of  purplish  smoke.  On  the 
right  the  Koran  rests  on  a  stand.  In 
the  center  rear  a  circular  zvindozv  dis¬ 
closes  the  dome  of  a  mosque  in  the  dis¬ 
tance.  Beneath  the  window  is  a  long 
seat  with  purple  and  scarlet  cushions. 
A  stout  cord  and  two  whips  have  been 
carelessly  thrown  upon  the  seat.  A 
doorvoay,  ornately  carved  with  gro¬ 
tesques  and  closed  by  a  curtain  of  ver¬ 
tically  hung  cords,  is  at  the  left  rear. 
The  walls  are  hung  heavily  with  rich 
and  multi-colored  tapestries.  A  grayish- 
purple  light  is  cast  over  the  stage. 

An  Egyptian  servant,  MEDEVAH, 
is  seated  by  the  unndow.  His  face  is 
marked  by  cunning  and  cruelty.  Sprawl¬ 
ing  lazily  against  the  door,  the  Captain 
of  the  Guard,  BORZIAN ,  is  toying 
zoith  his  sword.  He  is  heavy-set  and 
sullen  of  countenance ;  his  is  the  face 


11 


FOUR  PLAYS 


of  one  easily  led  by  a  superior  intelli¬ 
gence. 

BORZIAN :  Like  sheep  the  infidels 
fled  toward  that  narrow  gateway.  I 
reached  it  with  the  guard  just  as  the 
heavy  door  swung  shut.  But  my  men 
soon  saw  that  the  Christian  dogs  had 
no  way  of  escape,  so  they  fell  upon  the 
door  and  straightway  it  burst  inward. 
With  me  at  their  head  they  rushed 
bravely  through  the  breach.  There  we 
found  the  swine,  huddled  against  the 
farthest  wall.  It  was  over  all  too  soon, 
scarce  had  my  sword  drunk  blood  ere 
the  last  dog  was  writhing  upon  the 
ground.  But  such  luck  is  rare;  game 
is  not  always  so  plentiful. 

MEDEVAH  :  Didst  thou  slay  all  ? 
Were  there  no  women? 

BORZIAN :  Ay,  but  old  and  ugly. 
The  Caliph  wants  no  wrinkles  and  white 
hair  for  his  harem. 

MEDEVAH:  Thou  art  right,  O. 
Captain  of  the  Royal  Guard.  But  all 
the  comely  women  of  this  accursed  race 
of  Nestorians  have  not  been  sent  to  the 
Sultan.  Though  but  a  few,  there  must 
be  some  left  for  the  Caliph — ■  and  his 
courtiers.  Come,  good  Borzian,  didst 
thou  not  bring  in  one?  Methinks  I 
saw  thee  enter  the  slave  quarters  with 
a  most  shapely  burden. 

BORZIAN :  Thou  art  uncommon 
watchful,  Medevah.  I  do  remember 
now.  There  was  one  girl.  Her  mother, 
with  my  sword  at  her  very  throat,  cried 
out  telling  her  to  kill  herself  and  calling 
her  Romena.  Kill  herself,  indeed.  Not 
while  the  Captain  of  the  Guard  is  mind¬ 
ful  of  the  Caliph's  orders. 


12 


FOUR  PLAYS 


3000 C=DOOOC==>OOO0 


MEDEVAH :  Ah,  I  have  seen 

Romena.  She  hid  her  face  and  fled 
from  me  but  yesterday;  though  not 
before  I  had  glimpsed  the  pretty  face 
she  sought  to  hide.  And  she  could  not 
conceal  the  grace  with  which  she  ran. 
Thou  didst  well  to  spare  her,  Borzian. 

BORZIAN :  I  have  not  served  his 
majesty  these  many  yqars  without 
learning  the  value  of  a  comely  maiden. 
’Twas  I  who  brought  him  Veshna,  his 
favorite  wife;  for  that  service  I  am 
Captain  of  the  Guard. 

MEDEVAH  ( Observing  the  Captain 
closely )  :  The  bravery  and  wisdom  thou 
hast  shown  on  many  occasions  persuade 
me  that  thou  shouldst  be  more  than 
Captain.  The  golden  helmet  which  only 
the  Chief  Commander  may  wear,  would 
become  thy  stern  face  well.  Thou  dost 
speak  of  many  years  of  service —  a  life 
devoted  to  the  Caliph.  And  he  hath 
made  that  fool  Bestius  Chief  Command¬ 
er  after  but  two  short  years  of  pomp 
and  strutting.  Thou  art  ten  times  a 
better  soldier  than  he,  Borzian. 

BORZIAN :  Thou  sayest  truly, 

Medevah.  But  so  it  is,  and  so  it  must 
continue.  A  Son  of  the  Prophet  can 
make  no  error. 

MEDEVAH  :  Son  of  the  Prophet ! 
Who  told  thee  that  he  is  a  Son  of  the 
Prophet  ? 

BORZIAN:  Why—  He  himself 
saith  it,  the  Caliph  hath  said  so  himself. 

MEDEVAH:  Then  let  the  Caliph 
alone  believe  it.  Thou  hast  been  much 
about  among  the  children  of  men,  O 
Captain.  Surely  thou  art  too  wise  to 
be  led  by  what  a  man  saith  of  himself. 


13 


FOUR  PLAYS 


30000 


Qnnrx - inmrx - inmc - )  OOCX — DOOCX — >OOOOOOcr=>QOO< — ~XXX)C~TZX300  c 


BORZIAN :  Thou  speakest  truly, 
Medevah.  I  am  no  fool. 

MEDEVAH :  Ah,  now  dost  thou 
show  the  wisdom  of  a  Chief  Comman¬ 
der.  I  have  somewhat  to  speak  to  thee. 
Wilt  thou  swear  to  keep  it  hid  within 
thee? 

BORZIAN :  Upon  my  sword  I 
swear  it.  ( Presses  the  blade  to  his  lips.) 
No  word  shall  pass  these  lips. 

MEDEVAH :  There  is,  in  the  ante¬ 
chamber,  a  Nestorian  prisoner,  one 
Kadmiel.  Him  the  Caliph  cast  into  the 
deepest  dungeon  beneath  this  palace.  He 
shall  tell  thee  with  his  own  lips  what 
he  found  there  in  the  depths  ,of  the 
earth,  forgotten  of  the  Caliph. 

( MEDEVAH  passes  just  outside  the 
curtained  doorway.) 

MEDEVAH  :  Come,  my  Nestorian. 
Thy  bonds  shall  soon  be  off. 

( KADMIEL  enters,  his  wrists  bound 
together  with  a  cord.  He  is  fair-skin¬ 
ned  and  handsome,  but  shows  the  effects 
of  confinement.) 

MEDEVAH:  Now,  my  friend,  tell 
good  Borzian  of  that  which  thou  hast 
seen. 

( KADMIEL  looks  cautiously  and  in¬ 
quiringly  at  MEDEVAH  who  nods  to 
reassure  him.) 

KADMIEL :  In  the  dungeon  where¬ 
in  the  Caliph  cast  me  I  found  the 
mouldy  bones  of  a  man,  and  a  rock, 
guarded  by  a  serpent.  I  slew  the  ser¬ 
pent  and  turned  aside  the  rock.  Beneath 
were  the  skin  garmets  and  crooked 
staff  of  a  shepherd.  To  Medevah  I 
revealed  this,  pleading  that  I  be  placed 
in  another  cell. 


14 


FOUR  PLAYS 

Oococ^<x)o<==500ocr=>ooocrz)ooocr:j>oc:coooc=z)oooc=)oooc=>cxDoc 

BORZIAN :  What  meaneth  this 

strange  account,  Medevah?  What  hath 
it  to  do  with  a  Son  of  the  Prophet,  or 
with  a  Chief  Commander? 

MEDEVAH :  Long  did  I  ponder. 
Many  hours  I  spent  in  fruitless  effort  to 
fathom  this  mystery.  At  last,  O  Cap¬ 
tain,  Allah  revealed  it  to  me.  Thou 
hast  sworn  secrecy? 

BORZIAN :  Upon  the  oath  of  a 
soldier. 

MEDEVAH :  The  bones  were  all 
that  remain  of  the  rightful  and  true 
Caliph.  The  shepherd’s  skins  and  staff 
now  upon  the  throne  and  calleth  him- 
were  the  possession  of  him  who  sitteth 
self  “Son  of  the  Prophet.”  The  old 
Caliph  was  slain,  foully  and  treacher¬ 
ously,  by  him  who  calleth  himself 
Caliph,  a  base  and  bloody  usurper. 

BORZIAN:  Dost  thou  know,  O 
Medevah,  that  thou  hast  uttered  both 
blasphemy  and  treason.  Beware  lest 
thy  thoughts  be  discovered.  (He  glances 
at  KADMI\BL.)  The  Caliph  hath  said 
that  he  who  speaketh  treacherous  words 
shall  be  sawn  in  sunder. 

MEDEVAH :  Blasphemy  can  be 
truth,  O  Captain,  and  treason  the  death- 
knell  of  false  despots.  But  I  fear  not 
the  saws  if  some  friend  of  courage  and 
wit  guide  me  in  this  matter — one  with 
the  bravery  and  wisdom  of  a  Chief 
Commander. 

BORZIAN:  Thou  are  skillful  in 
affairs  of  this  nature.  Medevah.  And 
I  do  believe  that  thou  dost  speak  truth, 
though  my  soldier  head  is  sore  bewil¬ 
dered  by  this  revelation.  I  shall  keep 
silence. 

Qooo< — :>ocpcz30Qocz:o  ocxDcnxxxxrmoac  oooc=dcxx)c=30coc==?c)oo  c: 


IS 


FOUR  PLAYS 


MEDEVAH:  For  thy  silence  I 
thank  thee.  This  have  I  to  say,  O 
Captain.  While  the  Caliph  lives  we  are 
in  continuous  fear  for  our  lives.  Neither 
is  it  possible  to  free  our  province  from 
the  burden  of  his  usurping  tyranny. 
That  braying  donkey,  Bestius,  whom  he 
hath  made  Chief  Commander,  he  also 
must  be — 

BORZIAN :  Ah,  leave  Bestius  to 
me,  friend.  But  thou  hast  spoken 
rightly.  He  who  calleth  himself  Caliph 
must  be  slain. 

MEDEVAH:  If  thou  dost  think 
best,  Captain.  I  trust  thine  astuteness 
in  these  matters.  Be  it  as  thou  hast 
spoken.  Now,  we  have  further  use  for 
our  Nestorian  informer.  Kadmiel,  let 
us  hear  again  that  plan  which  thou  didst 
unfold  to  me. 

KADMIEL:  The  Caliph  hath  op¬ 
pressed  and  slain  my  kindred  in  great 
numbers,  as  thou  dost  know.  He  hath 
persecuted  us  because  we  worship  the 
God  of  our  fathers.  And  our  women 
he  hath  seized.  They  must  be  avenged. 
Ah,  I  will  kill  him,  I  will  kill  him !  This 
is  the  plan :  As  the  Caliph  goetli  to  the 
Mosque  upon  the  day  of  the  celebration 
of  the  Hegira,  I  will  cast  down  on  him 
from  the  Tower  of  Death,  a  dagger, 
tempered  in  the  poison  of  the  asp —  He 
shall  die — Our  women  will  be  avenged ! 

MEDEVAH :  And  for  our  part,  O 
Borzian,  we  will  see  that  he  goeth  un¬ 
punished. 

KADMIEL :  And  my  Romena,  thou 
didst  promise  to  restore  her  to  me. 

MEDEVAH:  True,  thou  shalt  have 
thy  Romena.  ( BORZIAN  looks  dis¬ 


it 


QOC»CZ=OOOOC=ZXXX> 


FOUR  PLAYS 


pleased,  and  is  about  to  speak  in  protest ) 
And  thou,  good  Borzian,  when  he  who 
calleth  himself  Caliph  is  dead,  thou 
shalt  take  the  golden  helmet  from  the 
unworthy  head  of  Bestius  and  be  thence¬ 
forth  Chief  Commander. 

BORZIAN :  And  thou,  O  cunning 
Medevah,  shalt  be  Caliph.  Thou,  hav¬ 
ing  wisdom,  shalt  be  Son  of  the  Prophet. 
And  I,  having  courage  and  strength, 
shall  be  Chief  Commander.  May  Allah 
be  praised  for  this  our  good  fortune. 

KADMIEL:  I  care  not  what  you 
become,  so  I  have  back  my  Romena. 
One  thing  further,  Medevah.  It  is 
rumored  among  the  people  that  the 
Caliph  proposes  not  to  attend  the  cele¬ 
bration  of  the  Hegira.  That  his  fate 
may  be  doubly  sure,  I  will  tell  him  of 
the  words  of  the  people  so  that,  lest  they 
know  him  for  a  coward,  he  will  go — 
and  pass  beneath  the  Tower  of  Death. 

MEDEVAH :  Well  conceived,  my 
Nestorian  friend.  Go  thou  and  return 
as  speedily  as  thou  canst.  ( The  cords 
are  removed  from  KadmieVs  wrists.) 
Mine  heart  will  not  rest  till  this  plan 
be  well  laid.  And  thou  hadst  best  dis¬ 
guise  thyself  as  a  beggar.  I  will  make 
sure  that  thou  hast  immediate  access  to 
the  Caliph’s  ear. 

( KADMIEL  departs.) 

MEDEVAH  :  Borzian,  wilt  thou  see 
that  thy  guard  doth  not  prevent  him  ? 

BORZIAN  :  Gladly  Medevah.  (Ex¬ 
ulting  (I  shall  be  Chief  Commander  with 
a  golden  helmet,  and  thou  shalt  be 
Caliph ! 

MEDEVAH :  As  thou  sayest.  But 
one  thing  I  desire  equally  with  the 

OOOCK=DOOO<==DOCOC=3)CXXDC=DOOOC^CXDOOC>DC==)OOOC=3C)OOC=Z)OC)OC 


17 


FOUR  PLAYS 


OOOC — -X3QQCZ3QOOO 


throne :  when  the  Caliph  is  slain,  Bor- 
zian,  when  thou  art  Chief  Commander, 
wilt  thou  deliver  to  me  the  Nestorian 
slave  girl,  Romena?  I  shall  know  no 
peace  till  she  is  mine.  I  must  have 
Romena,  good  Borzian. 

BORZIAN :  What  of  thy  Nestorian 
friend  ? 

MEDEVAH:  We  will  let  him 

choose  between  another  damsel  and  the 
sword.  He  may  take  either. 

BORZIAN :  She  is  the  most  desir¬ 
able  of  all  the  slave  girls  of  the  Caliph. 
But  there  are  others,  Medevah.  Since 
thou  dost  so  greatly  covet  her  she  shall 
be  thine.  With  my  burnished  gold 
helmet  I  shall  not  lack  for  wives.  Thou 
mayest  have  her. 

MEDEV AH  :  I  thank  thee,  Captain. 
Now  let  us  pledge  ourselves  upon  this 
compact. 

(He  takes  up  the  Koran  from  beside 
the  dais.) 

MEDEVAH :  I  do  swear  that  all 
that  I  have  spoken  to  thee,  O  Borzian, 
shall  be  even  as  I  have  spoken.  If  I 
fail  let  my  body  be  cast  to  the  dogs. 
May  Allah  witness ! 

BORZIAN :  I  swear  also,  Medevah. 
(He  takes  the  Koran.) 

BORZIAN :  If  I  do  not  all  that  I 
have  spoken  let  my  body  be  cast  to  the 
— let  Bestius  slay  me.  May  Allah  wit¬ 
ness. 

(The  CALIPH  enters.  MEDEVAH 
quickly  takes  the  Koran.  The  Captain 
of  the  Guard  takes  his  place  by  the  door. 
Both  make  obeisance  to  the  CALIPH, 
tc 'ho  mounts  the  dais.) 

MEDEVAH :  My  lord,  I  have  been 


18 


Qococ-rooooc=xxx> 


FOUR  PLAYS 


diligent  in  study  of  late  upon  the  works 
of  the  great  Mahomet.  Such  wisdom 
as  is  his  could  only  belong  to  a  son  of 
heaven. 

CALIPH:  Thou  art  wise,  Medevah, 
In  the  short  time  since  the  Sultan  sent 
thee  to  me  as  a  reward  of  fidelity,  thou 
hast  learned  our  ways  well.  Continue 
thus,  Son  of  Egypt,  and  I  shall  have 
higher  use  for  thee. 

MEDEVAH:  Most  gracious  sov- 
erign,  who  am  I  that  thou  shouldst  thus 
regard  me?  By  the  laws  of  conquest 
my  body  is  thine ;  now  I  give  my  heart 
also — I  am  thy  slave. 

CALIPH:  Well  spoken,  Medevah. 
Thou  shalt  stay  by  me  always.  But  thou 
hadst  best  beware  lest  one  of  my  slave 
girls  steal  thine  heart  away  from  its 
allegiance. 

MEDEVAH :  Thy  slave  girls  truly 
are  most  beautiful,  O  Caliph,  but  they 
are  thine,  and  what  is  thine  to  me  is 
sacred. 

CALIPH :  That  is  well,  Medevah. 
Since  thou  are  thus  faithful  thou  shalt 
have  one  of  thine  own  choosing  at  the 
next  feast  day,  to  be  thy  first  bride.  So 
doth  the  Caliph  reward  fealty.  And  if 
thou  dost  continue  faithful  she  shall  be 
but  the  first  of  thy  harem. 

MEDEVAH :  A  thousand  obei¬ 
sances,  O  munificent  one.  May  thy 
wives,  like  thy  virtues,  be  without  num¬ 
ber. 

CALIPH :  Captain  of  the  Guard, 
hast  thou  taken  many  prisoners  for  thy 
soverign  of  late?  Eor  a  thick-headed 
soldier  thou  hast  an  uncommon  eye  for 
pretty  faces. 


00OOd=>OOOCZZ3  OOOC~TT3QOQ( - ~>QOQC 


3000  ( 


19 


FOUR  PLAYS 


BORZIAN :  I  have  slain  many,  O 
Caliph.  But  these  Nestorians  are 
crafty  and  their  women  are — 

CALIPH:  Curse  these  Nestorian 
dogs.  I  would  not  wipe  mine  feet  upon 
the  face  of  one  of  them.  But  their 
women  are  sometimes  a  refreshment  to 
the  jaded  eyes  of  even  a  Caliph.  Come, 
Borzian,  didst  thou  not  take  one  on  the 
last  holiday?  Beware  lest  thine  eye 
cost  thee  thine  head.  The  keeper  of 
the  slave  quarters  told  me  of  a  certain 
Romena. 

BORZIAN:  Your  majesty,  I — did — 

CALIPH:  Go  and  fetch  her!  For 
thy  deception  thou  shalt  not  look  more 
upon  my  face  this  day.  Hide  thyself 
from  me,  O  man  of  lying  lips. 

( BORZIAN  departs  in  haste.) 

MEDEVAH:  Perfidious  Borzian. 

His  sword  he  can  control,  his  greed  he 
cannot.  Did  he  not  know  that  the 
Caliph  is  not  thus  easily  deceived  by  an 
idle  lie? 

CALIPH:  Ah,  Medevah.  One  who 
rules  men  early  learns  that  he  cannot 
trust  them. 

MEDEVAH :  Most  gracious  sov- 
erign,  I  shall  be  ever  true  to  thee.  My 
heart  is  thine,  never  shall  it  harbor  any¬ 
thing  in  concealment  from  its  lord. 

(A  struggle  is  heard  outside  the  cur¬ 
tains  of  the  door.) 

BORZIAN  ( Off  stage)  :  And  mind 
the  manner  of  your  entrance.  He  is  the 
Caliph.  ( The  girl ,  ROM  BN  A,  is  heard 
hysterically  weeping. 

BORZIAN  :  In,  dog  of  a  Christian  ! 

(ROMBNA  is  pushed  roughly  through 
the  doorway  and  falls  prostrate  in  the 


20 


FOUR  PLAYS 


center  of  the  room .  She  is  a  beautiful 
Nestorian  maiden;  her  face  bears  the 
marks  of  weeping .) 

CALIPH:  Up!  I  sent  for  thee  for 
no  weeping.  Hast  thou  not  been  taught 
what  is  proper  conduct  in  the  presence 
of  a  Son  of  the  Prophet?  Medevah, 
thou  hast  a  way  with  women,  ha,  ha,  ha ! 
See  if  thou  canst  not  make  that  rain 
storm  to  cease  and  cause  the  flower  to 
turn  her  face  up  to  her  sun,  the  Caliph. 

(M ED B  V A H  h at ds  her  roughly  to 
her  knees.  She  hides  her  face  in  her 
hands,  but  he  pulls  them  away,  holding 
her  for  the  inspection  of  the  Caliph. 
She  struggles  with  him.) 


MEDEVAH:  Still,  Tigress.  A 


Christian  should  not  so  treat  a  Moham¬ 
medan. 

ROMENA :  Kill  me,  I  pray  thee. 
Worse  is  this  than  a  thousand  deaths. 
If  thou  hast  one  drop  of  mercy  in  thy 
blood,  scourge  me  with  that  whip  and 
let  me  go.  Only  spare  me  this ! 

CALIPH :  Fair  she  is,  but  we  must 
teach  her  to  smile.  So  distressful  a 
countenance  doth  not  show  me  proper 
reverence ;  nor  do  clouds  become  so 
pleasing  a  face. 

MEDEVAH:  She  hath  a  proud 
spirit,  your  majesty.  But  that  doth 
make  conquest  more  to  be  desired.  Lips 
hot  with  hate  are  sweeter  far  than  lips 
warm  with  love.  Come,  a  little  sun¬ 
shine,  fair  Romena. 

CALIPH :  It  is  thy  lowering  coun¬ 
tenance  that  causeth  her  to  weep.  Egyp¬ 
tians  are  not  comely,  Medevah.  And 
thou  art  no  exception.  Thou  dost  well 
to  relish  stolen  sweets — the  maid  doth 


OOOOCZTDCXX>C=3CXX)<=3COCC=DC)OOC=DOOO  O 

21 


FOUR  PLAYS 

Ooooc=^000ci=>000<===)  oorxrrDnnfx - inmnnni - >noo< - innni - iron  < - kyxh - iqqqQ 


not  live  who  could  kiss  thee  willingly. 

MEDEVAH  (bows)  :  True,  O  Caliph. 
But  he  who  waiteth  for  a  gift  often 
wants.  He  who  seizeth  at  his  own  de¬ 
sire  hath  always  his  prize. 

(ROM BN A  breaks  azmy  but  is  re- 
caught  by  MEDEVAH  and  dragged 
before  the  dais  once  more.  With  her 
arms  twisted  behind  her  back  he  forces 
her  to  the  feet  of  the  Caliph.) 

ROMENA:  Why  do  you  not  kill 
me  as  you  slew  my  mother  ?  How  much 
more  gentle  would  be  a  sword.  How 
welcome  a  knife  within  my  heart.  O 
Caliph,  doth  not  Allah  teach  men  cour¬ 
tesy? 

CALIPH:  Speak  not  the  name  of 
Allah  with  those  unholy  lips.  Allah 
teacheth  no  womanly  virtues  to  his  sub¬ 
jects.  His  disciples  learn  wisdom  and 
courage  from  him.  Mahomet  showed 
us  how  to  be  brave ;  gentleness  is  a 
Christian  virture. 

ROMENA :  And  dost  thou  call  this 
courage?  Is  it  brave  to  torture  a  wo¬ 
man?  If  thou  didst  have  the  honor  of 
a  swineherd  my  blood  would  not  be  up¬ 
on  thee  on  the  Day  of  Accounting  as  I 
swear  it  shall  be.  Canst  thou  not  give 
me  a  knife?  I  know  wherein  to  sheath 
it.  Would  it  not  give  thee  pleasure  to 
see  me  die?  I  am  a  Christian,  let  me 
die. 

MEDEV AH :  Thou  art  a  Christian 
and  shouldst  die.  But  thou  art  a  beau¬ 
tiful  Christian,  we  do  not  kill  beautiful 
Christians. 

(A  man,  clad  in  rags  and  heavily 
hooded,  leaning  upon  a  staff  enters  left.) 

CALIPH :  Knave,  what  dost  thou 


22 


FOUR  PLAYS 


QCCC<ZZDOOGCT~~)OOOC — 3  none — irm - inrr 


here  unannounced  ?  The  penalty  for 
such  unholy  presumption  is  death. 
Medevah,  where  is  Jhe  guard  that  a 
stranger  should  thus  enter  unheralded? 

MEDEVAH :  Thou  didst  order  Bor- 
zian,  who  wast  on  guard,  to  depart  and 
didst  deny  him  thy  countenance  for  de¬ 
ception.  The  cursed  watchman  at  the 
gate  shall  have  forty  lashes  for  his  neg¬ 
ligence. 

(ROMBNA  creeps  to  the  ottoman  and 
sinks  exhausted  upon  it,  glad  of  tem¬ 
porary  release .) 

BEGGAR  ( Makes  obeisance)  :  If 
please  the  great  Caliph,  I  saw  no  one 
to  stay  me,  and  having  news  of  great 
import,  I  sought  thy  presence  straight¬ 
way. 

CALIPH:  Speak,  filthy  one.  What 
tidings  have  given  thee  temerity  to  enter 
my  presence  unbidden?  If  it  be  but 
some  trivial  matter,  the  slaying  of  a 
few  Christians,  thou  shalt  answer  for 
thine  impudence  on  the  rack.  Out  with 
it,  knave. 

( The  BEGGAR  hesitates,  looking  cov¬ 
ertly  at  ROMENA  to  see  how  she  fares. 
MEDEVAH  strikes  him  apparently 
hard  with  the  palm  of  his  hand.  The 
BEGGAR  winces.) 

MEDEVAH :  Loosen  thy  tongue. 
Jackal.  The  Caliph  commands  thee  to 
speak. 

BEGGAR:  If  it  please  your  ma¬ 
jesty,  I  am  Simeon  the  Mendicant. 
Daily  I  sit  by  the  market  place  and  sup¬ 
plicate  alms  of  the  passersby.  A  hard 
life  it  is,  my  lord,  often  a  crust  from 
the  gutter  is  my  evening  meal.  How- 
beit,  on  feast  days  when  men  are  drunk 


23 


FOUR  PLAYS 


with  wine  I  fare  well,  but  such  times 
are  rare,  and — * 

CALIPH :  Cease  thy  prattle,  shal¬ 
low  brain.  I  care  not  whether  thou 
dust  fare  on  crusts  or  honey-cakes. 
Out  with  what  thou  hast  to  say. 

BEGGAR :  Mercy,  my  lord.  Bear 
with  thy  servant.  As  I  sat  asking  alms 
by  the  market  place ;  that  is  a  poor  place 
for  a  beggar,  my  lord,  for  every  one  is 
murmuring  against  the  charge  for  dates 
or  barley  and  in  no  mood  for  helping 
him  who  hath  not  even  a  crust.  I  fear 
I  shall  have  need  of — 

MEDEVAH :  Enough  of  these  idle 
words.  Speak,  else  we’ll  see  what  the 
rack  can  do  for  thee. 

( Meanwhile  ROM  BN  A  has  begun  to 
pay  acute  attention  to  the  beggar. ) 

CALIPH:  If  thou  hast  naught  to 
speak  which  I  would  wish  to  hear  thou 
shalt  suffer  for  bringing  thy  dirty,  beg¬ 
ging  self  into  the  presence  of  the  Caliph. 
Speak ! 

BEGGAR :  O  Son  of  the  Prophet, 
Alas  I  have  no  information  which  thou 
wouldst  wish  to  hear  but  much  that  thou 
shouldst  hear. 

CALIPH :  What  are  thy  tidings, 
wretch?  If  thou  speak  falsely  Fll  have 
thy  tongue  out  by  its  roots. 

BEGGAR  ( Approaching  the  dais)  : 
My  lord,  there  is  a  rumor  amongst  the 
people  that  thou  are  determined  not  to 
celebrate  the  Hegira  at  the  mosque  of 
Mai  Dehir  as  is  thy  custom. 

CALIPH:  What  if  I  do  so  pur¬ 
pose  ?  Who  is  there  to  question  me  ? 

BEGGAR:  None,  O  shining  one. 
But  there  be  those  who  say  that  it  is 

Qoooc— ooorx )OOQ( i  none > nnrx innn  onn< inon. inom >orv-.  cr 


24 


FOUR  PLAYS 


through  fear  that  thou  stayest  within 
thy  palace.  The  blasphemous  words 
of  such  as  these  have  the  fickle  ear  of 
the  people  and  some  be  even  so  lacking 
in  reverence  as  to  speak  of  thy  failure 
to  worship  at  the  mosque  as  showing 
cowardice  unbecoming  a  Caliph.  Thus 
do  thy  subjects  talk,  O  courageous  one. 

(ROM  BN  A  shows  a  ray  of  hope.) 

CALIPH :  They  are  an  ungrateful 
lot.  A  ruler  is  never  safe  from  the  vile 
tongue  of  slanderers.  And  there  be 
some  who  are  deceived  by  them. 

MEDEVAH :  A  curse  upon  their 
imbecility.  But  men  who  lack  faith  in 
their  master  make  treacherous  subjects. 
Mayhap  it  would  be  discreet  thus  to 
convince  the  doubting  fools  of  thy 
strength  and  courage,  my  lord.  If  thou 
seest  fit  to  perform  the  traditional  cus¬ 
tom  of  the  Caliphs  it  will  strengthen 
their  faith  in  Allah  and  in  thee.  Taxes 
for  tribute  past  due  to  the  Sultan  will 
flow  into  thy  treasuries  with  their  fresh 
confidence  in  thee. 

CALIPH  :  Thou’rt  right,  my  faithful 
councillor.  This  beggar  hath  done  well. 
Pay  him  fittingly,  Medevah,  and  let  him 

g°. 

(ROM\BNA  lapses  into  hopelessness. 
MEDEVAH  gives  the  BEGGAR  a  coin 
and  whispers  aside.) 

MEDEVAH :  Well  done,  my  Nes- 
torian  friend. 

(Just  outside  the  door,  the  BEGGAR 
hesitates  unnoticed.) 

CALIPH:  Ah,  but  we  cannot  per¬ 
mit  the  murmuring  of  the  people  to  in¬ 
vade  the  pleasures  of  our  court.  Let  us 
try  again  to  coax  a  smile  from  our  sor- 


25 


FOUR  PLAYS 


rowful  beauty.  Come  hither,  Romena. 

{ROM  BN  A  \reluctantly  approaches 
the  dais.) 

MEDEVAH  {following  her  with  his 
eyes,  says  to  himself)  :  Ah,  the  spoils 
of  my  victory. 

CALIPH:  What  sayest  thou,  slave? 

MEDEVAH:  Naught,  my  lord.  I 
did  but  think  of  the  foolish  suspicions 
of  thy  people. 

CALIPH:  Thou  wouldst  do  well  to 
keep  thy  thoughts  behind  thy  lips. 
MEDEVAH:  True,  O  Caliph. 

CALIPH  :  Come  hither  to  me,  slave 
girl.  Canst  thou  not  give  the  great  Ca¬ 
liph  one  kiss?  Come  now — 

{The  BEGGAR  represses  anger  with 
difficulty ,  crouching  just  without  the 
doorway.) 

ROMENA :  Oh,  whv  should  I  be 
made  thus  to  suffer?  Is  there  no  es¬ 
cape?  Would  that  I  had  died  as  thou 
didst,  my  mother.  Will  ye  not  kill  me 
if  I  curse  thy  god?  Hear  me,  O  Allah. 
Thou  hast  the  spirit  of  a  snake,  the 
courage  of  a  frog,  thy  worshipers  are 
less  than  swine.  Mahomet  is —  is — 
lower  than  a  Christian ! 

{The  CALIPH  grasps  at  her.  She 
escapes  but  is  caught  by  MEDEVAH , 
who  raises  his  hand  to  strike  her, 
threateningly.  The  lights  change  to  an 
angry  red.) 

MEDEVAH:  No  Christian  may 
blaspheme  the  wondrous  Allah.  And  in 
the  very  presence  of  the  Caliph.  I’ll 
teach  thee  reverence,  daughter  of  a  dog ! 

{He  seises  ROMENA  by  the  wrist 
and  drags  her  toward  the  whip  lying 
on  the  ottoman.) 

QOPCX^=)OOOC^>OfV-)( - mnm - innrv - .nrv'.nnni - mm, - w-v-v, , - ,000, _ 


26 


FOUR  PLAYS 


CALIPH:  Hold,  Medevah.  Stay 
thy  temper.  The  damsel  is  not  thine. 
I  shall  do  with  her  as  I  will.  Wait  thou 
my  command. 

MEDEVAH :  She  hath  defamed 
Allah ! 

( MEDEVAH  takes  the  whip  and 
raises  it  to  strike  her.) 

ROMENA:  Kadmiel,  my  Kadmiel, 
canst  thou  not  help  me? 

(She  crouches  at  MEDEVAH' S  feet. 
He  is  about  to  strike  her.  The  beggar 
springs  forward  and  throws  back  his 
hood.) 

BEGGAR:  Spawn  of  devils,  take 
thy  profane  hands  from  her.  If  I  kill 
thee  not  myself,  I  have  that  which  will 
be  thy  death. 

ROMENA :  My  Kadmiel,  save  me, 
save  thy  Romena ! 

(KADMIEL  puts  her  behind  him  pro- 
tectingly.  MEDEVAH  starts  back, 
then  recovers.) 

MEDEVAH :  Thou  white-skinned, 
fair-haired  infidel.  If  thou  darest  to 
deal  with  me  doubly — 

CALIPH:  What  meaneth  this?  Beg¬ 
gar  that  was,  I’ll  have  an  accounting 
for  this  deception.  Methinks  I  have 
beheld  thy  countenance  before. 

KADMIEL:  Hear  then,  O  Caliph. 
I  am  Kadmiel,  a  Nestorian.  With  me, 
that  faithless  courtier  of  thine,  Mede¬ 
vah,  plotted  to  slay  thee  as  thou  didst 
go  to  the  celebration  of  the  Hegira.  Thy 
death  being  accomplished,  he  treason¬ 
ably  did  plan  to  take  thy  throne,  making 
himself  Caliph  in  thv  stead. 

MEDEVAH:  He  lies.  The  whin¬ 
ing  dog  lies ! 


27 


FOUR  PLAYS 


KADMIEL:  I  plotted  with  him 
because  I  hated  thee  for  what  thou  hast 
done  to  my  Romena.  But  now,  O 
Caliph,  I  perceive  that  my  cause  is 
against  him,  more  than  against  thee, 
that  subtile,  dark-skinned  serpent,  Me- 
devah. 

( The  CALIPH  looks  angrily  at  MB- 
DBVAH.) 

MEDEVAH:  He  lies,  my  lord.  I 
have  been  ever  faithful  to  thee ! 

( MBDlBVAH  edges  closer  to  the  dais 
and  to  the  rear  of  the  CALIPH .) 

CALIPH  (To  Kadmiel)  :  Thou  dost 
confess  that  thou  hast  plotted  against 
me.  Yet  thy  revelation  hath  saved  my 
life. 

KADMIEL:  I  have  saved  thy  life, 
O  Caliph.  And  for  my  service  I  do 
claim  the  freedom  of  Romena. 

ROMENA :  O  Kadmiel,  never  was 
lover  so  true. 

CALIPH  :  But  thou  art  a  Nestorian, 
and  Romena  is  a  slave  girl.  Canst  thou 
not  be  content  with  thine  own  freedom? 
Thou  shalt  not  thus  easily  play  upon  my 
heart.  Freedom  is  gained  with  a  dearer 
price.  But  the  greater  condemnation  is 
Medevah’s.  Him  shall  I  show  what  it 
means  to  betray  the  Caliph. 

( MBDBVAH  rises  from  behind  the 
dais  and  stabs  the  CALIPH  with  a 
knife.  The  Caliph  dies.) 

MEDEVAH:  Now,  my  fair-skinned 
friend.  The  people  shall  be  told  that 
thou  didst  slay  the  Caliph.  I  shall  be 
Caliph  in  his  stead,  thou  shalt  be  my 
slave — and  Romena  shalt  be  my  slave 
girl.  Come,  my  beauty.  Why  dost 

OOOOCZZXDOOCUD  nnot innni >nnn< innn  noo< innni mnni innn  c 


28 


FOUR  PLAYS 


thou  cling  to  him?  I  am  thy  master 
now.  Medevah  is  lord. 

{He  advances  toward  her.  KADMIBL 
puts  ROM  BN A  behind  him  and  draws 
a  knife  from  beneath  his  tunic.) 

KADMIEL:  Devil  incarnate,  vic¬ 
tory  comes  not  so  easily.  Thy  lying 
treachery  shall  not  go  unavenged ! 

MEDEVAH :  The  knife  that  slew 
the  Caliph  shall  slay  thee  also,  Christian 
dog! 

KADMIEL:  Tempered  in  the  poi¬ 
son  of  the  asp ! 

( They  struggle.  KADMIBL  stabs 
MRDBV AH  and  he  falls  heavily  to  the 
floor.) 

ROMENA :  Kadmiel,  thou  hast 

saved  me.  I  loved  thee  before,  if  there 
be  a  passion  greater  than  love,  I  give  it 
thee. 

( KADMIBL  goes  to  the  doorway  to 
see  if  the  zvay  is  clear.  He  returns  and 
takes  her  by  the  hand.) 

KADMIBLs  Come,  heart  of  my 
heart.  Let  us  go  hence  to  join  our  own 
people  in  their  exile. 

( With  his  arm  about  her  they  slowly 
start  to  leave  the  stage  as  the  curtain 
falls. ) 

— H.  K.  Russell. 


3000C=DOOOC=30000 


29 


FOUR  PLAYS 


“I  Do” 

CHARACTERS 
{In  Order  of  Appearance) 

CHARLES  WERNER — A  rather  wild ,  but  smart ,  hard¬ 
working  young  lawyer  and  greatly  in  love  with  Peg. 

ELI ZABETH  MYERS — Friend  of  Peg's  and  like  her  in  many 
ways ,  but  she  is  a  bit  more  reckless  than  Peg  because  she 
has  her  family  completely  under  control. 

ARCHIE  EASTON — Great  friend  of  Charles.  Somewhat  of 
a  tea  hound. 

REGINALD  van  TUEL — A  good  sport,  wealthy  in  money 
and  family  but  exceedingly  poor  in  brains.  Is  the  proud 
possessor  of  both  a  monocle  and  a  small  moustache. 

PEGGY  GREYS — Typical  flapper  and  the  bride-to-be.  Im¬ 
pulsive  and  high  tempered. 

SCENE:  Living  room  of  Lib's 
house.  Room  furnished  with  taste  and 
refinement.  Victrola  is  in  one  comer 
of  the  stage,  divan  in  another  corner 
and  near  the  center.  Door  zvith  por¬ 
tieres  in  rear  of  stage  opening  into  the 
outer  hall,  door  on  left  side  of  the  stage 
leading  into  den.  Impractical  window 
on  other  side  of  stage  from  door. 

Lib  and  Charles  are  seated  on  the 
divan  as  the  curtain  rises  and  Archie 
cuts  off  a  loud  lazz  record  as  they  start 
talking. 

CHARLES  :  Cut  that  thing  off,  Ar¬ 
chie. 

ELIZABETH:  It  certainly  is  great 
to  have  you  back  with  us,  Charlie,  and 
I  know  Peg  will  be  thrilled  to  death  to 


30 


FOUR  PLAYS 


see  you  even  if  she  did  almost  marry 
Reggie. 

CHARLES  :  That  invitation  Archie 
sent  certainly  surprised  me.  When  I 
got  his  wire  I  came  a-running  tho  I 
realized  that  it  would  be  too  late. 

ELIZABETH:  Where  have  you 
been  ? 

CHARLES :  Well,  when  Peg  and  I 
had  our  bust  up,  I  checked  for  parts  un¬ 
known.  I  landed  in  Omaha  where  I 
looked  up  a  long  lost  uncle,  who  is  an 
influential  lawyer  in  those  parts.  He 
had  never  seen  me  before ;  but  as  Dad 
had  put  him  thru  College,  he  showed 
his  gratitude  by  getting  me  a  job  in  the 
firm,  I  have  been  working  there  ever 
since.  Archie  has  had  my  address  for 
several  weeks. 

ELIZABETH— Archie  is  such  a 
clam  he  didn't  let  anybody  know.  But 
why  didn’t  you  tell  Peg  where  you 
were  ? 

CHARLES:  That  was  hardly  pos¬ 
sible  after  the  way  she  treated  me.  I 
have  some  pride.  But  that’s  enough 
about  me.  What  I  want  to  know,  is 
something  about  this  near-wedding.  My 
train  got  in  late,  and  I  haven’t  gotten 
any  straight  dope  on  it  at  all. 

(Bell  rings  off-stage ) 

ELIZABETH:  Archie,  see  who’s 
there,  please.  (Exit  Archie.) 

It  was  like  this.  After  you  and  Peg 
had  your  little  spat,  she  stayed  on  her 
ear  for  quite  a  while  and  didn’t  single 
out  any  man  to  center  her  affections  on. 
But  you  could  see  all  along  that  her 
family  was  tickled  silly  over  your  leav¬ 
ing,  and  were  doing  their  darndest  to 


OCOC=3000C=)GOO^-3000 C=3OOO<==>0OOC 


31 


FOUR  PLAYS 


match  her  with  Reggie,  because  of  his 
family  and  money  of  course. 

CHARLES :  I  understand  the  fam¬ 
ily’s  attitude  all  right.  But  Peggy? 
She’s  beyond  me. 

ELIZABETH  :  Well,  when  you  dis¬ 
appeared  and  didn’t  write  or  anything 
Peg  didn't  have  any  regular  fellow  to 
jazz  around  with,  and  she  just  naturally 
picked  up  Reggie  on  the  rebound. 

CHARLES  :  Humph !  But  what 
about  the  wedding? 

( Enter  Archie  with  several  letters  and 
papers.) 

ARCHIE :  Here’s  a  full  account  of 
it  in  the  CHRONICLE.  Read  it  to 
him,  Lib.  Hands  paper  to  Lib. 

ELIZABETH:  Let’s  have  it  (Read¬ 
ing)  Gee,  look  at  the  headlines — clean 
across  the  page.  “St  Luke’s  is  the  scene 
of  unparallelled  incident.  Wedding  inter¬ 
rupted  by  fire  just  as  groom  has  taken 
marriage  vows.”  Then  comes  the 
story.  “Last  evening  St.  Luke’s  Epis¬ 
copal  Church  was  the  scene  of  an  ex¬ 
ceedingly  strange  incident  at  the  wed¬ 
ding  of  Miss  Peggy  Greys  and  Mr.  Re¬ 
ginald  van  Tuel.  Just  as  Bishop  War¬ 
ren  turned  to  the  bride,  after  the  groom 
had  taken  the  most  solemn  of  vows  to 
love,  honor,  and  cherish,  the  cry  of  fire 
was  heard  and  the  church  began  to  fill 
with  smoke.  The  large  crowd  was  im¬ 
mediately  thrown  into  a  panic  and  the 
bride  fainted.” 

CHARLES :  Fainted  ? 

ARCHIE:  I’ll  say  she  did.  I  helped 
to  carry  her  to  the  car.  Believe  me  she 
was  dead  to  the  world. 

ELIZABETH :  Yes,  Peg  had  been 


32 


FOUR  PLAYS 


going  it  pretty  strong  for  the  last  month 
or  so.  She  was  all  wrought  up  over 
the  wedding,  and  the  fire  was  a  bit  too 
much  for  her.  But  let  me  go  on.  “By 
the  heroic  efforts  of  the  fire  department 
the  beautiful  church  was  saved;  but  the 
wedding  could  not  be  continued  as  the 
bride  was  carried  at  once  to  her  home 
where  she  received  medical  attention. 
Miss  Greys  is  still  suffering  from  her 
nervous  shock  but  it  is  announced  by 
the  family  that  the  wedding  will  be  con¬ 
tinued  as  soon  as  the  charming  bride 
has  regained  her  health.  This  regret¬ 
table  incident,  however,  is  not  without 
its  humorous  side  as  the  groom  is  bound 
by  the  solemnest  of  vows,  while  the 
bride  is  absolutely  free. 

ARCHIE :  Free !  Aint  she  mar¬ 
ried  ? 

ELIZABETH:  What  about  it, 
Charles?  Is  she  married  now,  or  can 
she  back  out  if  she  wants  to  ? 

CHARLES:  No,  she  is  NOT  mar¬ 
ried.  If  she  should  back  out,  old  Reg¬ 
gie  could  sue  her  for  breach  of  promise. 
But  then  she  will  go  on  with  the  cere¬ 
mony.  She  must  love  Reggie  to  have 
gone  this  far  with  it. 

ELIZABETH:  I’n*  not  so  sure. 
What  made  you  and  Peggy  bust  up  any¬ 
way?  I  never  did  get  the  straight  of 
it.  Archie  here  was  so  mysterious  I 
couldn’t  get  a  thing  out  of  him.  And 
Peg  was  furious  every  time  your  name 
was  mentioned. 

CHARLES:  Good  old  Archie.  He 
certainly  is  a  hero  not  to  have  let  you 
pull  it  out  of  him.  But  as  it  is  all  over, 
I  can  tell  you  about  it.  You  see  Peg 


33 


FOUR  PLAYS 


had  been  going  at  a  pretty  rapid  rate. 
You  know  that,  for  you  were  right 
along  with  her  if  not  a  few  laps  ahead. 
As  we  were  engaged,  or  at  least  I 
thought  we  were,  I  took  it  upon  myself 
to  tell  her  that  I  thought  she  had  better 
throw  in  the  clutch  and  coast  a  while. 

ARCHIE :  It  sure  made  her  mad. 
I  heard  what  she  had  to  say  about  it. 

CHARLES :  Yes,  she  told  me  that 
just  because  we  might  get  married  some 
day  I  needn’t  think  that  I  could  dictate 
to  her  and  a  lot  more  to  the  same  effect. 

ELIZABETH  :  That’s  just  like  Peg. 
She  handed  you  that  line  while  she  was 
mad,  and  didn’t  mean  a  word  of  it. 

CHARLES :  I  don’t  know  about 
that.  But  the  straw  that  broke  the  ca¬ 
mel’s  back  was  a  little  incident  at  the 
Elysian  Club  dance.  We  quarreled  all 
the  way  to  the  dance,  and  Peg  refused 
to  give  me  the  intermission.  I  got  it 
with  Lillian  Kellog,  who,  as  you  know, 
has  quite  a  reputation  as  a  wild  woman. 

ARCHIE :  It's  more  than  reputa¬ 
tion,  my  boy. 

ELIZABETH:  Humph!  I  see. 

ELIZABETH:  How  do  you  know 
so  much  about  it  ? 

CHARLES :  As  Lillian  had  been 
imbibing  a  bit  too  freely  we  drove  up 
town  and  drove  back  slowly  so  that  the 
cool  air  would  steady  her  nerves. 

CHARLES:  Well,  just  as  Lillian 
was  getting  out  of  the  car,  she  caught 
her  heel  on  the  running  board.  And 
if  I  hadn’t  been  there  to  catch  her,  she 
would  have  fallen.  As  luck  would  have 
it,  just  at  that  moment  Peg  drove  by  and 
saw  the  whole  thing.  She  wouldn’t 


34 


FOUR  PLAYS 


speak  to  me  or  give  me  a  chance  to  ex¬ 
plain.  That  was  when  I  beat  it  for 
Omaha. 

ELIZABETH:  Idiot!  You  ought 
to  have  stayed  here. 

ARCHIE:  But  I  explained  to  Peg¬ 
gy.  I  told  her  how  I  had  to  take  Lil¬ 
lian  home  from  the  dance  because  she 
broke  her  heel  when  she  fell. 

ELIZABETH  :  What  good  did  that 
do  when  Charlie  was  a  million  miles 
away.  No  wonder  the  poor  girl  broke 
loose.  You  thought  she  was  wild  be¬ 
fore,  but  she  broke  all  speed  records 
after  you  left.  This  little  Angel  child 
wasn’t  in  her  class  at  all.  Then  she 
wound  it  all  up  by  announcing  her  en¬ 
gagement  to  Reggie. 

CHARLES :  These  flapper  flirtations 
make  me  sick.  They  are  bad  enough 
ordinarily ;  but  when  they  carry  them  to 
the  altar — Good  night !  But  Peg’s  got 
good  stuff  in  her  if  she  will  get  over  her 
ambition  to  be  a  wild  woman.  And  to 
be  wasted  on  Reggie ! 

ARCHIE — Here’s  good  old  Reggie 
now. 

Enter  Reggie 

REGGIE — Hello,  old  things.  I  just 
toddled  in  to  awsk  of  you  had  heard 
anything  from  Peggie.  Eh,  what? 

CHARLES:  Reggie,  old  top,  how 
goes  it? 

REGGIE  ( Seeing  Chas.  for  the  -first 
time  and  eyeing  him  with  some  distaste) 
Why — er — er — Chawlie.  I  didn’t  know 
you  were  in  our  city. 

CHARLES:  Sure,  Reggie,  I  came 
for  the  wedding.  It  seems  I  was  a  lit¬ 
tle  late  for  the  first  round,  but  I  am  in 


Oooo 


'Oocxrzr* 


35 


FOUR  PLAYS 


time  for  the  knock  out.  When  does  it 
come  off  ? 

REGGIE:  That's  just  what  your 
uncle  Reggie  is  frightfully  keen  to 
know,  old  chappie.  I  trickled  around 
to  the  Grey’s  home  this  morning,  but 
the  bally  butler  wouldn’t  let  me  in, 
y’know.  Said  Miss  Peggy  had  not  re¬ 
covered  from  the  shock,  by  jove. 

ARCHIE:  How  about  your  self? 
Have  you  recovered? 

REGGIE:  No,  old  dear.  The  old 
bean  spun  around  like  a  deuced  top  all 
night.  Fact  is  I  didn’t  close  my  eyes 
’pon  my  word.  My  man  Brooks,  sat 
up  all  night  and  held  my  hand  and  fed 
me  cracked  ice. 

ELIZABETH:  Poor  Brooks! 

REGGIE:  You  see  I  collected  all 
my  nerves,  y’know,  for  the  jolly  cere¬ 
mony.  I  had  made  up  my  mind — 

CHARLES:  Your  what? 

REGGIE  :  My  mind,  dash  it.  Where 
was  I  ?  Oh  yas.  I  fawncy  that  none 
of  you  have  ever  been  married. 

ELIZABETH :  No,  not  yet.  It 
must  be  a  harrowing  experience. 

REGGIE :  Harrowing,  my  dear  old 
thing?  It’s  frightful.  I  think  I  could 
swallow  being  really  married  but  what 
I  cawnt  abide  is  this  deuced  uncertainty. 
Am  I  married  or  am  I  not?  This  half¬ 
way  stuff  makes  me  feel  such  a  silly 
ass. 

ELIZABETH  :  I  have  consulted  my 
lawyer,  Reggie.  He  tells  me  that  you 
are  married  to  her  but  she  is  not  mar¬ 
ried  to  you.  You  must  love,  honor,  and 
cherish  her,  endow  her  with  all  your 
worldly  goods,  and  all  that  kind  of  rot. 


24 


FOUR  PLAYS 


But  as  she  has  never  said  “I  DO”  you 
can’t  hold  her  to  anything.  She  can  do 
just  as  she  pleases.  You  are  at  her 
mercy. 

REGGIE :  Aw,  I  can’t  stand  it, 
y’know. 

ARCHIE  :  Man,  she’ll  lead  you  one 
jolly  life.  You  have  to  do  just  exactly 
as  she  says  and  she’s  one  of  these  mod¬ 
ern  “wild  women”  too.  Poor  Reggie. 

ELIZABETH:  Poor  Reggie! 

CHARLES:  Poor  Reggie! 

REGGIE:  I  say,  old  dears,  what 
shall  I  do? 

ELIZABETH:  Well,  the  doctor 
says  she  can’t  possibly  go  through  the 
ceremony  for  a  month.  Her  nerve — I 
mean  her  nerves — won’t  stand  it. 

REGGIE:  A  month.  I’ll  pop 

across  to  Europe. 

CHARLES :  You  can’t.  You  see 
in  the  eyes  of  the  law  you  are  her  hus¬ 
band.  To  go  away  now  would  be  equiv¬ 
alent  to  desertion. 

REGGIE :  I  cawn’t  stand  a  month 
of  this.  I  can’t  endure  it  y’know.  If 
she  insists  on  going  through  the  bally 
ceremony,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
carry  on.  But  if  she  should  stand  up 
in  front  of  the  altar  and  say  “I  don’t” 
instead  of  “I  DO” — I  know  it’s  a  cadish 
thing  to  say — but  I  should  be  relieved. 
’Pon  my  word  I  would.  Well  I  must 
be  toddling.  I’ll  be  back  anon.  Ta  ta. 
( Exit  Reggie.  All  stand  thunderstruck.) 

ARCHIE  ( Recovering )  :  Well  what 
do  you  know  about  that? 

( Sound  of  girl's  voice  outside  to  left.) 

ELIZABETH:  It’s  PEG.  She’s 
coming  up  thru  the  den.  Go  out  in  the 


37 


FOUR  PLAYS 


•xmgv  -jonoO 


hall,  Charlie.  She  mustn’t  see  you  so 
suddenly  in  the  state  she’s  in.  Run 
along  home,  Archie.  I’ll  call  you  when 
I  want  you.  Go  on,  both  of  you. 

(Exit  Charles  and  Archie  R.  C.  Elis¬ 
abeth  goes  to  Victrola.  Enter  Peg.) 

ELIZABETH  :  Peg,  darling  ( They 
embrace.)  But  what  are  you  doing 
here  ?  Come  on  over  and  lie  down 
(Peggy  lies  on  the  sofa).  I  thought  you 
were  sick  in  bed  from  shell  shock. 

PEGGY :  I  couldn’t  stand  it  anoth¬ 
er  minute,  Lib.  I  had  to  see  you. 

ELIZABETH :  Why  didn’t  you 
send  for  me  ? 

PEGGY :  Why,  I  knew  that  Mother 
and  the  nurse  would  be  right  with  us 
and  I  wanted  to  see  you  alone. 

ELIZABETH :  How  did  you  come? 

PEGGY :  While  the  nurse  was  out 
of  the  room,  I  slipped  down  the  back 
stairs,  got  in  the  car  Reggie  gave  me  for 
a  wedding  present,  and  here  I  am. 

ELIZABETH:  You  just  missed 
Reggie. 

PEGGY :  Yes,  I  know.  I  saw  his 
car  out  in  front.  I  drove  round  to 
your  garage  and  came  up  thru  the  kit¬ 
chen.  Perkins  is  a  dear.  I  came  up 
when  I  heard  Reggie  go  out. 

ELIZABETH :  How  are  you  feel¬ 
ing,  dear. 

PEGGY:  Feeling?  Lib,  can  you 
keep  a  secret  ? 

ELIZABETH— Shoot. 

PEGGY :  I  didn’t  faint  at  all. 

ELIZABETH:  What? 

PEGGY :  No,  when  I  stood  before 
the  Bishop,  I  was  praying  that  some¬ 
thing  might  happen  to  keep  that  hor- 


38 


FOUR  PLAYS 


ooo  c=>oooc=>oooO 


rible  ceremony  from  taking  place.  That 
fire  seemed  like  a  direct  answer  to 
prayer.  Before  I  thought,  I  flopped. 
And  I  kept  on  flopping.  I  fooled  the 
doctor,  the  nurse,  and  everybody. 

ELIZABETH :  Well,  you  are  cer¬ 
tainly  one  grand  little  flopper. 

PEGGY :  But  the  worst  is  yet  to 
come.  I  was  hardly  out  of  my  first 
fainting  spell  when  mother  wanted  to 
know  when  I  was  going  to  complete  the 
ceremony.  I  promptly  fainted  again, 
but  I  can’t  keep  on  fainting  every  time 
the  subject  is  mentioned. 

ELIZABETH:  Don’t  you  want  to 
marry  Reggie? 

PEGGY  :  Heavens  no  !  You  know, 
Lib,  while  I  was  lying  on  the  floor  be¬ 
fore  the  altar,  my  life  came  before  me 
as  they  say  a  drowning  man  can  see 
his  whole  life.  What  a  fool  I’ve  been. 
I’m  off  this  wild  woman  stuff  forever. 
It  seemed  a  lot  of  fun  when  we  first 
bobbed  our  hair,  shortened  our  skirts, 
painted  our  faces  and  broke  loose  in 
general.  And  when  Charles  tried  to 
stop  me  I  went  on  worse  than  ever  just 
to  show  him.  And  just  to  prove  he 
was  not  the  only  one,  and  to  stop  Mo¬ 
ther’s  dinging  at  me,  I  agreed  to  marry 
Reggie.  I  knew  if  I  married  him  I’d 
be  a  wild  woman  all  my  days  and  I  was 
so  desperate  I  rather  liked  the  prospect. 
Just  to  spend  Reggie’s  money  and  to 
raise  Cain.  But  I’m  cured. 

ELIZABETH:  What  are  you  go¬ 
ing  to  do  ? 

PEG:  Well  common  decency  're¬ 
quires  that  I  go  on  and  marry  Reggie. 
But  I  don’t  want  to.  I  don’t  want  to. 


39 


FOUR  PLAYS 


I  don’t  see  why  on  earth  I  ever  let 
Charles  go. 

ELIZABETH  :  Neither  do  I. 

CHARLES  ( Entering )  Neither  do  I. 
( Peg  stares  at  Chas.  incredulously .) 

ELIZABETH  ’.{Mischievously)  Now 
is  a  good  time  to  practice  your  fainting 
stunt,  Peggy.  {No  reply  from  Charles 
and  Peg  who  continue  to  stare  at  each 
other  speechlessly.)  Here’s  where  little 
Elizabeth  does  her  famous  disappearing 
act.  This  is  no  place  for  her.  {Exit 
Elizabeth.) 

PEGGY  {Recovering)  :  You  heard 
what  I  said? 

CHARLES  :  Part  of  it. 

PEGGY — And  you  still  call  yourself 
a  gentleman? 

CHARLES :  I  do.  My  overhear¬ 
ing  could  not  be  helped.  Come  on, Peg. 
Let’s  declare  an  armistice  and  discuss 
peace  terms.  Let’s  sit  down  and  talk 
things  over  calmly. 

PEGGY :  I  am  not  so  sure  that  there 
is  anything  to  talk  over.  I  am  a  mar¬ 
ried  woman.  At  least  I  am  partially 
married. 

CHARLES :  All  the  more  reason 
why  we  should  remove  old  scores. 
What’s  the  use  of  our  quarrelling  if 
you  are  already  married? 

PEGGY :  Well  on  that  understand¬ 
ing  alone,  I  will  discuss  matters  with 
you.  {They  seat  themselves  on  the  sofa) 

CHARLES  :  On  that  understanding 
then,  you  know  there  is  absolutely  no¬ 
thing  in  that  Lillian  Kellog  incident. 

PEGGY:  Yes,  Archie  explained 
that  to  me. 

OOOC<==>OOOC==>CXDOC==5  oor* - annrv - innomnot - innrv - innni - innn  c 


40 


FOUR  PLAYS 


CHARLES :  Then  there’s  nothing 
else. 

PEGGY :  Oh,  yes  there  is.  There 
was  so  much  talk  about  you  and  Lillian 
that  I  had  to  believe  some  of  it.  Why, 
I  went  to  three  bridge  parties  in  one 
week,  and  all  that  I  heard  was  gossip 
about  you  two. 

CHARLES  ( Rising  to  his  feet  and 
gesticulating  with  his  arms)  :  Yes,  gos¬ 
sip  !  gossip !  That  detestable  concoction 
of  little  minds,  the  spawn  of  jealousy 
and  the  devil,  on  which  many  so-called 
Christians  thrive.  The  thing  that  turns 
the  red  flag  of  Bolshevism  into  a 
Christian  pennant  of  purest  white.  The 
thing  that  paints  a  modern  Babylon 
from  an  innocent  dance  and  turns  the 
thoughtless  actions  of  the  younger  gen¬ 
eration  into  debaucheries  of  degene¬ 
rates.  A  lot  of  old  hens,  with  nothing 
else  to  do,  cackle  about  things  of  which 
they  know  nothing.  Believe  me,  it 
makes  me  so  sore — 

PEGGY  ( Applauding )  Fine,  Charles, 
I  have  never  seen  you  so  warmed  up. 

CHARLES :  Well,  don’t  you  agree 
with  me?  These  gossips — 

PEGGY :  Oh,  don’t  begin  again.  I 
agree  with  you.  But  it’s  perfectly  nat¬ 
ural  that  I  should  think  that  there  must 
be  some  fire  where  there  was  so  much 
smoke.  And  you  made  it  worse  by  go¬ 
ing  away  without  a  word.  Why  did  you 
do  it? 

CHARLES :  Well,  you  seemed  so 
hard  and  heartless  that  I  thought  there 
was  no  use.  You  paid  no  attention  to 
me,  and  would  give  me  no  chance  to 
explain. 


41 


FOUR  PLAYS 


PEGGY :  So  you  just  naturally  ran 
away.  That  was  when  I  went  wild  sure 
enough  and  ended  by  marrying  Reggie. 

CHARLES  :  Marrying  Reggie  ?  But 
you  are  not  married  yet. 

PEGGY :  Oh,  yes  I  am.  Remember 
that  I  am  discussing  these  matters  only 
on  the  understanding  that  I  am  mar¬ 
ried. 

CHARLES :  All  right,  on  that  un¬ 
derstanding.  You  will  admit  that  I 
am  forgiven  all  past  transgressions. 

PEGGY :  I’ll  go  further  than  that. 
You  were  right  in  that  little  sermon  you 
preached  me.  I  knew  it  at  the  time ; 
but  you  made  me  so  mad  that  I  got 
worse  for  a  while.  But  that  is  all  over 
now. 

( Charles  turns  impulsively  toward  her.) 

PEGGY :  Be  calm.  Remember  our 
understanding.  ( Mischievously  in  spite 
of  herself  and  her  seriousness)  Through 
your  influence  I  will  make  Reggie  a 
good  wife. 

CHARLES :  Make  who  a  good 
wife?  (Springs  to  his  feet.) 

PEGGY :  Why,  Reggie,  of  course. 

CHARLES  :  Like  thunder  you  will. 
Peg,  this  matter  must  be  settled  once 
and  for  all.  Do  you  love  Reggie? 

PEGGY :  No!  But  I  don’t  see  that 
you  have  any  right  to  ask  such  a  ques¬ 
tion. 

CHARLES :  I’ll  prove  my  right. 
Peg,  I  hate  to  puncture  your  well  known 
colossal  conceit.  But  I  happen  to  know 
that  Reggie  will  be  just  as  much  re¬ 
lieved  to  get  out  of  this  marriage  as  you 
will. 

PEGGY :  What  ? 


42 


FOUR  PLAYS 


CHARLES :  I’m  not  betraying  con¬ 
fidences,  for  Reggie  made  this  state¬ 
ment  before  Elizabeth  and  Archie.  He 
said  that  he  would  be  very  much  re¬ 
lieved  if  you  stood  before  the  Bishop 
and  said  “I  don’t”  instead  of  “I  DO.” 

PEGGY:  He  did,  did  he?  Oh, 
won’t  I  fix  him? 

CHARLES :  That  can  be  attended 
to  later,  young  woman.  We  have  more 
important  matters  to  discuss.  You  are 
not  going  to  marry  Reggie  at  all.  You 
are  going  to  marry  me. 

PEGGY:  Marry  you?  Why  Charles, 
Mother  would  never  consent. 

CHARLES  :  Is  it  really  necessary  ? 
Can’t  we  get  out  of  this  horrible  mess 
by  going  away  at  once?  Do  you  have 
to  make  a  whole  lot  of  explanations. 
To  your  family,  for  instance. 

PEGGY :  Charles,  dear,  I'll  go  with 
you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  She  rises. 
Chas.  starts  impulsively  toward  her.  No 
time  for  sentiment  now.  Let’s  be  prac¬ 
tical.  Reggie’s  wedding  present,  a  new 
roadster,  is  in  Lib’s  garage.  We’ll  go 
in  that.  (Chas.  rushes  to  her,  takes  both 
her  hands  and  bends  toward  her.  Eliz¬ 
abeth’s  voice  is  heard  in  hall )  Watch  out 
folks,  we  are  coming.  (Enter  Elizabeth, 
Archie  and  Reggie.) 

ELIZABETH  :  I  tried  to  keep  them 
out,  Peg.  But  Reggie  got  word  from 
your  house  that  you  had  flew  the  coop, 
and  he’s  gone  batty.  Archie  happened 
along,  and  we  reasoned  with  him.  But 
he’s  plum  nutty. 

PEGGY  (Again  her  old  flap  perish 
self  and  in  high  spirits)  :  Why,  hello, 


OOQO<==DCOOC==)OOOC=Z)  nnr><  >nnrx  3000  OOOCHDOOOC 


43 


FOUR  PLAYS 


Reggie,  old  top,  how’s  the  boy? 

( Reggie  is  speechless .) 

ARCHIE :  Come  on,  old  boy,  speak 
to  the  lady. 

ELIZABETH :  Crank  him  up,  Ar¬ 
chie,  his  battery  is  run  down. 

REGGIE  :  Why — er — er — ,  Peggy, 

I  thought  you  were  sick  y’know. 

PEGGY:  Not  on  your  life.  I’m 
well  and  strong  and  hitting  on  all  cy¬ 
linders.  I’m  ready  to  skip  up  the  old 
aisle  and  have  the  foolish  old  ceremony 
over  with.  What  about  it? 

REGGIE :  Why,  Peggy,  the  physi¬ 
cians  er — er  a  month. 

PEGGY :  Oh,  you  want  to  put  it  off 
for  a  month,  do  you  ?  Ain’t  he  the  gal¬ 
lant  and  impulsive  lover?  Just  can’t 
wait  for  the  day  to  come. 

ARCHIE :  Reggie,  old  soul,  I’m  sur¬ 
prised  at  you. 

ELIZABETH :  Naughty,  naughty. 
Such  a  dear  sweet  little  wife,  too.  You'll 
break  her  heart. 

PEGGY :  No,  it  suits  me  exactly. 
Just  think.  Eor  a  month  he  must  love, 
honor,  and  cherish  me.  When  the  fatal 
day  arrives  when  we  twain  shall  become 
one,  I  promise  to  love,  honor  and  obey 
him.  This  is  the  life.  I  have  a  hus¬ 
band,  but  I  am  not  a  meek  down-trod¬ 
den  wife.  Come  here  to  me,  Reggie. 

REGGIE  (As  if  hypnotized,  comes 
tozvard  her)  :  But  er-er  Peggy. 

PEGGY :  Now  you  shall  see  the  new 
version  of  Bringing  Up  Father.  George 
M’Manus  will  die  of  envy.  Down  on 
your  knees,  insect. 

REGGIE  (Protesting  but  obeying)  : 


44 


FOUR  PLAYS 


But,  Peggy,  this  is  deucedly  awkward, 
y’know. 

PEGGY  ( Her  heart  softening  as  she 
looks  at  him)  :  No,  I  can’t  carry  it  any 
further.  Reggie,  you  are  a  good  sport. 
Let’s  get  this  over  with.  Let’s  practice 
the  ceremony  now  just  as  we  will  carry 
it  out  before  the  Bishop,  when  ever  we 
can  get  with  him.  Come  on,  folks. 
Charles,  you  can  be  the  Bishop.  Lib, 
you’ll  be  my  maid  of  honor.  Archie 
shall  be  the  best  man.  Put  a  wedding 
march  on  the  victrola,  Archie. 

( Archie  puts  the  wedding  march  on 
the  victrola.  Chas.  takes  place  in  cen¬ 
ter  of  stage.  Girls  go  into  the  hall. 
Archie  and  Reggie  into  the  den.  To  the 
strains  of  the  wedding  march,  enter 
Elizabeth,  then  Peg,  Archie  and  Reggie 
enter  from  den.  They  take  their  pla¬ 
ces  before  Chas. _ Archie  cuts  off  vic¬ 

trola.) 

PEGGY :  Shoot  me  the  question, 
Charles. 

CHARLES:  Peggy  Greys,  do  you 
take  this  man  to  be  your  wedded  hus¬ 
band  to  love,  honor  and  obey  till  death 
do  us  part? 

PEGGY:  I  DO  NOT. 

All  are  silent  looking  at  Reggie. 

REGGIE:  Eh,  what?  You  are  not 
jesting,  Peggy.  I  say  (he  looks  at  her 
solemnly.  Then  he  smiles  happily  and 
holds  her  hand.)  SHAKE.  (Peg  and 
Reggie  shake  hands  solemnly.) 

PEGGY:  So  it’s  all  over,  Reggie, 
and  no  hard  feelings.  It  was  pretty 
good  while  it  lasted.  But  marriage 
would  have  spoiled  it.  You  gave  me  a 
car  for  a  wedding  present,  Reggie.  It  s 


45 


FOUR  PLAYS 


down  in  Lib’s  garage.  I’ll  send  back 
the  other  things. 

REGGIE  (  With  grave  dignity)  :  Keep 
them,  Peggy,  old  dear,  in  memory  of 
our  little  halfway  wedding.  I’m  popping 
over  to  Europe  tomorrow.  Dash  it,  the 
car  will  be  a  wedding  present  for  you 
and — er — is  it  er — er  Chawles?  Do  you 
accept  ? 

PEGGY:  I  DO. 

CHARLES :  I  DO ! ! 

( Quick  Curtain.) 

—B.  T.  Woolf  oik. 


C'OOOCZ=)OOOC=DOOOC=)  QOOC - )000CZZ3000 none— -inane - )OfYl( - >non  < - y-wx - >nnr>0 

46 


OOCXDCHDOCXXZZZ)  OOC" 


FOUR  PLAYS 


“At  The  Sign  of  The  Sturgeon’s  Head” 

A  STORY-PLAY  OF  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION 

IN  THREE  SCENES 
PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 
In  the  Order  of  Their  Appearance 
FORTUNE — Negro  lodge-keeper  at  Chicora  Place. 

MISS  NANCY  PAISLEY — An  orphaned  patriot  maid. 
MAJOR  JOHN  JAMES — Of  Marion’s  Partisan  Brigade. 
COMMODORE  ARDIESOFF,  R.  N.— Newly  appointed  Brit¬ 
ish  commandant  at  Georgetown. 

CAPTAIN  BALLENTYNE,  R.  A.— Aide  to  Ardiesoff,  like¬ 
wise  a  new  arrival. 

HOPKINS — Orderly  to  Ardiesoff  (he  does  not  appear  on  the 
stage.) 

CAPTAIN  ADAMS — Of  General  Washington’s  Staff. 
COLONEL  PETER  HORRY— Close  friend  of  Marion. 
OSCAR — Negro  servant  to  Marion. 

GENERAL  FRANCIS  MARION — The  celebrated  partisan 
leader. 

CAPTAIN  POSTEL — One  of  Marion’s  trusted  officers. 
PETER  BROCKINGTON — Tory,  maternal  uncle  and  guar¬ 
dian  of  Nancy ;  he  keeps  “The  Sturgeon’s  Head”  at  George¬ 
town. 

1st.  BRITISH  OFFICER. 

2nd.  BRITISH  OFFICER. 

3rd.  BRITISH  OFFICER. 

SENTRIES. 

TAVERN  LOITERERS. 

NOTE:  The  author  wishes  to  acknowledge  the  interest 
shown  in  his  work  by  Mr.  IV.  IV.  Boddie,  President  of  The 
Williamsburg  Historical  Society ,  and  by  the  authorities  at  the 
Charleston  Library  and  Museum ,  without  whose  help  he  would 
have  been  unable  to  obtain  the  necessary  historical  materia 


47 


FOUR  PLAYS 


In  yet  another  way  he  is  indebted  to  Prof.  E.  J.  Erwin  and  Mr. 
H.  K.  Russel,  whose  council  has  been  invaluable. 

“At  the  Sign  of  the  Sturgeon  s  Head"  does  not  purport  to 
be  a  history,  it  was  written  in  an  attempt  to  picture  the  life  of 
Marion's  men  and  their  home  folk.  But  in  building  up  the  story 
only  such  events  were  used  as  have  same  standing  in  history 
or  legend,  admitted  that  in  some  cases  they  were  changed  a 
bit  as  a  matter  of  dramatic  expediency.  Especially  did  the 
author  feel  free  to  ascribe  events  to  characters  in  the  play  that 
did  not  actually  happen  to  them,  but  to  similar  contemporaries 
in  similar  situations. 

William  Cullen  Bryant's  “ Marion  s  Men ”  should  be  given 
as  a  prologue  before  the  first  scene. 

Descriptions  of  costumes  are  omitted,  for  they  would  be 
valueless  unless  given  in  greater  detail  that  space  permits. 

SCENE  I. 

SCENE :  The  gatekeeper’ s  lodge  of 
Chicora  Place,  the  home  of  John  With¬ 
erspoon,  Williamsburg  District,  South 
Carolina. 

A  small  rude  room  with  walls  of 
hewn  logs;  low  ceiled.  Door  at  left 
opens  to  show  gate.  There  is  a  rude 
lire  place  to  the  right.  There  is  a  rude 
bench  before  the  window  at  the  rear 
over  which  there  is  an  Indian  quiver 
with  a  bozv  and  arrozv.  A  table  with 
two  rude  stools  occupies  the  center  of 
the  room.  Several  completed  zvithe 
Baskets  are  piled  downstage  at  the 
right.  An  uncompleted  basket  is  on 
the  table. 

TIME:  Mid-afternoon  of  a  June 

day,  1781. 

( When  the  curtain  rises  the  lodge  is 
empty.  Enter  FORTUNE  mumbling. 
FORTUNE  hangs  key  on  wall  to  right 


48 


>000 <33>OOOCIZ>OOOQ 


FOUR  PLAYS 

0000<==5000C==30CXDC==)  000C==3000C - 3000 OOOC - )fm - >nnr» - . 


0/  awrf  seating  himself  on  stool  at 
table  places  uncompleted  basket  on  floor 
and  proceeds  to  weave.  He  faces  door. 

Enter  NANCY  PAISLEY  and  JOHN 
JAMES.  FORTUNE  looks  up  and 
makes  as  if  to  rise.  With  a  wave  of 
her  hand  NANCY  stops  him). 

NANCY :  Up  and  to  the  house  with 
Mum  Mary.  Major  James  and  I  will 
keep  the  gate  until  Cousin  John  returns. 

FORTUNE:  Y’as  mam,  Mis’  Nan¬ 
cy,  sho’  will.  Dat  oman  must  hab  sum 
vittles  sav’  up  fo’  me,  she  mout’.  (Ris¬ 
es,  places  uncompleted  basket  on  pile 
and  goes  out). 

(Nancy  seats  herself  on  stool  va¬ 
cated  by  FORTUNE  and  motions 
JAMES  to  the  other.  They  face  across 
the  table  and  turn  towards  audience  as 
the  action  requires.  JAMES’  admira¬ 
tion  for  NANCY  is  apparent.) 

JAMES  (casting  about  for  a  suit¬ 
able  opening)  :  ’Tis  all  of  six  months 
since  last  I  saw  you,  Nancy,  and  they 
seemed  as  six  years.  Remember  how 
last  December,  when  we  sat  here,  we 
promised  to  see  each  other  every  week? 

NANCY  (Non-committally,  her 
thoughts  are  not  on  the  present)  :  Yes. 

JAMES  (Trying  another  approach)  : 

Why  all  the  bother  about  the  gate  ? 

NANCY:  British  and  Tories  and 
Regulators — ’twere  not  for  the  gate 
we’d  never  draw  a  peaceful  breath. 

You  see — 

JAMES:  Ah!  ’Tis  a  dastardly 
crowd  they  are  to  worry  old  men.  and 
women.  Soldiers  ?—  Bah  !—  thieves 
and  cutthroats,  murderers  and  barn¬ 
burners.  The  country  is  red  and  smok- 

___ „ - .nrv-x — —>000  rvYv innni inonrr^DOQO  dZDOOOCZDOOOO 


49 


FOUR  PLAYS 


QCX30CZ3000< - ?OOOC 


3000C 


in g  from  Santee  to  Lynches.  Brave 
they  are  to  burn  and  pillage.  But  e’en 
when  Marion  gets  after  them  they  fly. 
(His  face  lights  up)  But  ay,  that’s  a  man 
for  you,  Nancy.  The  Swamp  Fox  they 
call  him,  and  there  is  not  his  like  in  the 
colonies.  Didst  ever  see  him  ? 

NANCY:  No.  The  general  has  nev¬ 
er  honored  Georgetown  with  a  visit. 

JAMES :  Some  day  he  will  and  un¬ 
expected.  He  doesn't  stand  back  for 
the  lack  of  an  invitation.  And  where 
might  that  Tory  uncle  of  yours  live?  If 
the  fates  are  kind  I’ll  ride  with  Marion. 

NANCY :  Uncle  Peter  now  keeps 
“The  Sturgeon’s  Head’’  on  Front  Street. 
'Tis  a  right  smart  place  what  with  the 
gallant  officers.  (A  slight  shrug). 

JAMES:  Gallant  officers — bah! — 

red-coated  cut-throats.  Did  one  ever 
dare  to  speak  to  you  ? 

NANCY  ( Mischieviously )  Cer¬ 
tainly — and  why  not? 

JAMES  (Ignoring  query — rough¬ 
ly)  :  I’ll  wring  the  cur's  neck. 

NANCY :  Captain  Ballentyne  is  no 
cur. 

JAMES:  And  who  might  he  be? 

NANCY :  A  captain  in  His  Maj¬ 
esty’s  forces — lately  arrived  from  Eng¬ 
land  and  personal  aide  to  Ardiesoff,  the 
commandant.  A  right  fine  gentleman 
he  is  and  well-spoken  too.  Told  me  once 
that  I  was  the  prettiest  lass  in  the  col¬ 
onies  (With  spirit). 

JAMES  (Now  jealous.  In  all  seri¬ 
ousness)  :  And  did'st  slap  his  impu¬ 
dent  face? 

NANCY:  No. 

JAMES :  What ! 


50 


FOUR  PLAYS 


( A  moment’s  silence) 

JAMES  ( Moodily )  :  Seems  that  thou 
hast  a  right  fine  time  in  Georgetown 
with  your  Tory  uncle  and  officer  gal¬ 
lants — a  fine  time,  Mistress  Nancy,  a 
fine  time  (sarcastically) . 

NANCY :  Yes,  sometimes — but  not 
always. 

JAMES  (interested)  :  Why  not  al¬ 
ways. 

NANCY :  Some  of  the  officers  are 
hateful.  There’s  a  drunken  old  Major, 
Clewes  by  name,  who  tries  to  make  love 
to  me — ugh  ! — but  not  so  bad  as  Com¬ 
modore  Ardiesoff  the  new  commandant 
— he’s  a  beast. 

JAMES :  Would  to  God  I  could 
throttle  him. 

NANCY :  And  then  there’s  Uncle 
Peter. 

JAMES:  What  of  Uncle  Peter? 

NANCY :  He  makes  me  tend  bar 
as  if  I  were  some  common  barmaid — 
and  I  hate  him —  I  hate  him — 

JAMES :  Bad  cess  to  him. 

NANCY :  At  first  I  didn’t  mind  so 
much.  And  then  he  tried  to  make  me 
play  the  coquette  with  the  officers — 
said  that  it  would  make  the  place  pop¬ 
ular.  I  refused. '  He  scolded  and  cuff¬ 
ed  me —  but  you  can’t  order  a  woman  to 
coquette.  If  I  had  to  tend  the  bar  I 
had  to — but — no  more. 

JAMES:  The  cur!  ’Tis  a  sweet 
hanging  he  would  make.  (To  NANCY) 
Why  don’t  you  leave  him? 

NANCY :  He  is  my  legal  guardian, 
and  you  know  that  I  have  no  other  rela¬ 
tive  over  here  except  Cousin  John. 


51 


FOUR  PLAYS 


JAMES :  Why  not  stay  with  him 
then  ? 

NANCY:  I  would  like  to,  but  I 
dare  not  for  he  would  surely  come  and 
get  me.  Cousin  John  says  that  the 
British  law  is  enforceable  here. 

JAMES:  Come  with  me  then? 

NANCY :  Are  you  my  brother  that 
I  should  flee  to  you  ? 

JAMES  :  But  you  promised — 

NANCY :  I  promised  to  wait. 

JAMES :  Haven’t  we  waited  long 
enough  ? 

NANCY :  No.  Where  would  you 
take  me?  To  the  swamps?  Impossi¬ 
ble.  And  if  you  carried  me  to  Indian 
Town  who  would  take  care  of  me  while 
you  rode  with  Marion? 

JAMES :  I  could  leave  the  armv. 

NANCY:  ( With  spirit)  Me  a' de¬ 
serter’s  wife — never  !  Fie  on  you,  John 
James. 

(A  moment’s  silence ) 

NANCY  ( Pitying  the  man’s  grief)  : 
You  were  to  tell  me  of  Marion — the 
Swamp  Fox  as  the  officers  call  him. 

JAMES  ( Brightening  a  hit)  :  Yes. 
But  where  should  I  begin?  There  is 
much  to  tell. 

NANCY :  I  did  hear  the  officers 
speak  of  the  affair  at  the  Lower  Bridge 
near  to  the  Town  at  the  King’s  Tree. 

JAMES :  Ay,  yes — that  was  a  fight 
to  warm  the  cockles  of  your  heart. 

NANCY  ( Impatiently )  :  I  know 
’twas  a  fight — but  how  did  it  begin,  and 
how  did  it  end,  and  how  did  the  middle 
look  ? 

JAMES  ( Once  more  in  good  humor) 
Well,  you  see  it  started  when  Lord  Wat- 


52 


FOUR  PLAYS 


^OOOC=DOOOd=DOOO  C=300CX=DOOOQ 

son  took  a  notion  to  move  toward  the 
Cheraws.  He  left  Fort  Watson  and 
coming  down  the  Santee  to  Murray’s 
Ferry  moved  toward  Black  River.  Our 
force  was  small  at  the  time,  the  Gen¬ 
eral  having  allowed  many  of  the  men 
to  return  home  to  plant  the  crops,  so  the 
best  we  could  do  was  to  harass  the  Red 
Coats  from  every  bay  and  thicket. 

We  fell  back  till  we  reached  the  Low¬ 
er  Bridge  across  the  Black  River  just 
below  the  Town  at  the  King’s  Tree. 

And  there  we  faced  a  problem,  for  you 
will  remember  that  there  is  a  road  to  the 
left  leading  to  Georgetown  or  the  fer¬ 
ries  below,  and  we  had  not  men  enough 
to  guard  both  roads.  The  General  threw 
all  of  us  across  the  road  to  Georgetown. 

For  a  while  Watson  followed  and  then 
he  wheeled  and  made  for  the  bridge ! 

We  could  not  intercept  him.  And  then 
I  looked  and  there  was  the  general  mak¬ 
ing  across  fields  for  the  river  with  his 
horse  at  full  tilt.  We  guessed  his  pur¬ 
pose  and  fell  in  behind  him.  The  river 
was  up  with  the  spring  rains  but  our 
horses  made  it  and  then  the  dash  for  the 
bridge,  end.  The  unsuspecting  British 
were  coming  up  slowly. 

The  General  gave  me  forty  musque- 
teers  and  told  me  to  burn  the  bridge. 

McCottry  and  his  rifles  were  to.  cover 
our  attempt.  McCottry  posted  his  men 
well ;  and  every  time  a  red  coat  showed 
over  the  bluff  there  would  be  a  crack 
and  one  less  red  coat.  They,  brought 
up  cannon,  but  the  Riflemen  picked  off 
the  gunners  and  soon  we  had  the  bridge 
set  and  could  retire — 

NANCY  (Her  true  feelings  reveal- 


53 


FOUR  PLAYS 

Qoocx - >OOOC - >OOQ  CZZ)  oocx — annoc— ->nnni  nnni - >nnrx - innni - innn  c 

twg  themselves )  :  But  weren’t  you  in 
danger  ? 

JAMES :  A  bit. 

NANCY:  Oh!  John! 

JAMES  ( Brightening  considerably)  : 
What  of  it?  Soldiering  for  Marion  is 
no  easy  task.  Would  you  have  me  a 
coward  ? 

NANCY.  No. 

JAMES:  Well. 

NANCY :  Not  a  coward,  John — 
never — but  be  careful  for  my  sake.  Re¬ 
member — I’m  waiting. 

JAMES  (His  eyes  shining)  :  Nancy! 
(They  '.start  to  embrace.  Inhere  is  a 
sound  of  hoof -beats  off-stage). 

JAMES  (Stopping  and  listening)  : 
Hoofbeats  !  The  Witherspoons  went  in 
a  carriage ! 

NANCY:  Yes,  quick,  John,  the 
window ! 

(JAMES  rushes  to  window  and  looks 
out). 

JAMES  (Turning  head)  :  Redcoats 
* — three  of  them  ! 

NANCY:  John  —  here,  quick! 
(JAMES  turns  from  window). 

NANCY  (Pointing  to  window  oppo¬ 
site  to  where  he  is  standing)  :  Out  the 
window  and  away ! 

JAMES:  And  leave  you? 

NANCY:  Yes. 

JAMES:  Never  (Reaches  toward 
pistol) . 

NANCY :  John  go — go  for  my  sake 
— if  they  catch  you  here  (has  arms  over 
his  shoulders) . 

JAMES :  If  they  catch  you  here 
alone  ?  ? 

NANCY :  I’m  not  afraid — go  ! 

JAMES :  Never. 

QooocrzDOOCK ?  nnoc innrn irmnyif  — >rxv->< c=>ooo<_ 


54 


FOUR  PLAYS 


NANCY  ( Looking  zvildly  about 
room.  The  hoof  beats  drazv  closer)  : 
Quick,  John,  back  of  those  baskets 
(Points).  Down  low.  If  they  mean 
no  harm  all’s  well — if  they  don’t — 

(JAMES  springs  back  of  baskets  as 
there  is  a  loud  knock  on  the  gate.  Re¬ 
moves  pistols  from  holsters  and  cocks 
them) . 

BAEEENTYNE  (Outside):  Open 
in  His  Majesty’s  name. 

(NANCY  takes  key  from  hook  and 
goes  out.  There  is  a  sound  of  Key 
turning  and  gate  opening). 

BALEENTYNE  (Outside.  Sur¬ 
prized)  :  You  here,  Mistress  Nancy? 

NANCY  (Outside):  Captain  Ball- 
entyne — (A  moment) — Commodore  Ar- 
diesoff ! 

ARDIESOEE  (Outside):  The  same 
— we’ll  go  in. 

(Enter  ARDIESOFE,  BAELEN- 
TYNE  and  NANCY).  ARDIESOFF 
examines  room,  is  intensely  interested  in 
Indian  bow  and  quiver  of  arrows  that 
hang  over  the  zmndozv.  NANCY  and 
BALEENTYNE  move  toward  the  cen¬ 
ter  of  the  room). 

BALEENTYNE  :  And  are  you  keep¬ 
ing  the  gate  by  your  own  little  self,  Mis¬ 
tress  Nancy? 

NANCY  (Coldly):  Yes.  (ARDIE¬ 
SOEE  turns  and  an  evil  look  over 
spreads  his  face). 

(A  moment’s  silence) 

NANCY :  Please  state  your  errand. 

BAEEENTYNE  (Bowing)  \  Your 
pardon,  Mistress  Nancy.  I’m  search¬ 
ing  for  one  John  James,  a  notorious 


55 


0OOOC=>OOOC=Z>OOO' 


FOUR  PLAYS 


member  of  Mr.  Marion’s  band.  Have 
you  seen  or  heard  aught  of  him? 

NANCY  ( With  effort)  :  No. 

B ALLENTYNE :  Now  that’s  pass¬ 
ing  strange,  for  the  report  is  that  he’s 
around  these  parts. 

NANCY  ( With  spirit ):  No— I’ve 
not  laid  eyes  on  him — but  perhaps  Cou¬ 
sin  John  has —  he  is  down  at  Blue  Hall, 
the  Skinner’s  place.  (ARDIESOFF 
remains  quiet  at  window  but  turns  and 
list  ens ) . 

BALLENTYNE :  Many  thanks, 

Mistress  Nancy,  I’ll  to  Blue  Hall  and 
see  your  Cousin  ( Starts  for  door  but 
turns  when  about  half-way) . 

BALLENTYNE :  When  will  we 
have  the  pleasure  of  again  seeing  you 
at  “The  Sturgeon’s  Head”? 

NANCY  ( Stamping  foot)  :  Never,  I 
hope. 

BALLENTYNE  {He  has  forgotten 
ARDIESOFF ;  with  questioning  look 
in  his  eyes,  he  bows)  :  Again  your  par¬ 
don,  Mistress  Nancy.  Turns  to  leave) 

ARDIESOFF  ( With  bravado,  leer¬ 
ing  at  NANCY)  :  Not  so  fast,  Cap¬ 
tain,  up  to  the  house  and  have  Hopkins 
place  a  copy  of  the  proclamation  on  the 
door.  Damme,  they’ll  know  my  Lord 
Howe’s  orders.  And  don’t  hurry. 
( With  ugly  leer  at  Nancy)  We’ve  am¬ 
ple  time  to  make  Elson’s  place  ere  night 
falls — even  so  don’t  be  too  long.  Damme 
if  I  want  to  be  out  on  the  roads  after 
night,  Mr.  Marion  might  be  around. 
(JAMES  smiles). 

BALLENTYNE:  Yes,  sir  ( Salutes 
and  goes  out). 

{At  the  sound  of  ARDIESOFF’S 


56 


0OCX<=3OOOC==>OOO( 


FOUR  PLAYS 


voice  NANCY  has  whirled,  and  a  look 
of  fear  spreads  over  her  face.  As  the 
full  significance  of  the  situation  dawns 
her  fear  is  intensified.) 

BALLENTYNE  ( Outside )  :  Hop¬ 
kins  ! 

HOPKINS  ( Outside )  :  Yes,  sir. 
BALLENTYNE  ( Outside )  :  Here, 
and  bring  a  copy  with  you. 

HOPKINS  ( Outside )  :  Yes,  sir. 

(ARDIESOFF  has  moved  toward 
NANCY.  With  difficulty  she  suppress¬ 
es  a  scream.  JAMES  tightens  the  grip 
on  his  pistols). 

ARDIESOFF :  And  what  ho,  my 
pretty  maid.  Did’st  repulse  me  in 
Georgetown,  eh?  But  now  (NANCY 
recoils  in  terror.  JAMES  rises  up  a 
hit)  Well — come  now — Pm  waiting — 
just  a  maidenly  buss. 

NANCY  ( Terrified )  :  You  beast — 
you — 

ARDIESOFF  ( Surprised )  :  By  the 
Lord  Harry,  does  a  barmaid  speak  so  to 
an  officer  of  His  Majesty's  Navy?  I’ll 
teach  you — ( catches  her  zvrists — NAN¬ 
CY  screams — JAMES  rises  up  and 
sights  pistol.  He  drops  back  as  BALL¬ 
ENTYNE  enters). 

BALLENTYNE  (Suprised)  :  Com¬ 
modore  Ardiesoff ! 

ARDIESOFF  ( Whirling  about  and 
raging)  :  What  the — 

BALLENTYNE :  Sir,  shall  I  search 
the  house  for  the  rebel,  James? 

ARDIESOFF :  Yes, — and  may  you 
find  the  devil.  Begone. 

BALLENTYNE  ( Coolly )  :  And  will 
the  Commodore  go  also? 

ARDIESOFF'  ( Explosively )  :  NO  ! 


57 


FOUR  PLAYS 


BALLENTYNE  ( Coolly )  :  In  which 
case  I  must  remain  here,  sir. 

ARDIESOFF  (. Furiously )  :  The  Hell 
you  will — Captain  Ballentyne,  you  will 
proceed  immediately  to  search  the  house. 

(BALLENTYNE  does  not  move  a 
muscle.) 

ARDIESOFF  ( Sarcastically )  :  Since 
when  did  juniors  in  His  Majesty’s  ser¬ 
vice  begin  to  do  as  they  see  fit?  Search 
the  house. 

BALLENTYNE:  Before  I  was  an 
officer  in  His  Majesty’s  service,  sir,  I 
was  a  gentleman,  and  I  hope  I  am  still 
one.  I  will  not  leave  you  alone  with 
Mistress  Nancy. 

ARDIESOFF  ( Seeing  that  he  is  los¬ 
ing)  :  I’ll  have  you  court-martialed. 

BALLENTYNE  ( Coolly  and  delib¬ 
erately)  :  To  Hell  with  your  court- 
martial. 

(A  moment's  strained  silence) 

(In  surly  silence  ARDIESOFF  turns 
and  leaves  the  room  followed  closely  by 
BALLENTYNE.  NANCY  thanks  him 
with  her  eyes  as  he  passes.  NANCY 
follows.  Sound  as  of  gate  closing  and 
key  turning  in  lock.  James  replaces  pis¬ 
tols  and  getting  up  moves  toward  door. 
Re-enter  NANCY  to  meet  JAMES. 

JAMES :  Nancy ! 

NANCY:  John! 

(They  embrace) 

AS  THE  CURTAIN  FALLS. 
SCENE  II 

SCENE:  Marion's  camp  on  Snow 
Island.  A  Carolina  forest  of  the  low- 
country  in  the  summertime,  there  is  lit¬ 
tle  or  no  underbrush.  There  is  a  rude 


58 


FOUR  PLAYS 


ooo  C=XX)OC=XX)00 


and  weathered  tent  upstage  center.  En¬ 
trances  through  trees. 

TIME :  Late  afternoon  of  a  mid- 
July  day  1781. 

( When  the  curtain  rises  the  stage  is 
empty.  Oscar  is  singing  a  negro  spir¬ 
itual  off-stage,  left.  Enter  Colonel 
Peter  Horry  and  Capt.  Adams,  talking ). 

ADAMS :  I  dare  say,  Colonel,  you 
have  few  rivers  to  compare  with  the 
Santee.  Believe  me,  ’tis  as  red  and 
dirty  as  report  has  Wemyss’  Legion. 

HORRY :  True  to  a  degree,  sir,  but 
pray  don’t  compare  our  good  Santee 
with  those  murdering  cut-throats. 

ADAME :  No  offence  intended,  my 
dear  Colonel,  I  assure  you. 

HORRY :  Freely  granted,  freely 
given,  Captain — Come  let’s  be  seated 
( They  seat  themselves  on  the  logs). 
But  to  answer  your  original  question: 
The  Great  Pee  Dee  is  fully  as  large  as 
the  old  Santee.  It  may  sound  a  little 
strange  to  you  if  you  should  remember 
that  vou  crossed  it  as  the  Yadkin — a 
shallowish  and  turbulent  stream — on 
your  way  down  through  North  Caro¬ 
lina.  Tomorrow  you  will  see  the  Pee 
Dee  in  all  its  powerful  majesty  when 
we  start  our  journey  north.  We’ll  cross 
at  Port’s  Ferry  and  go  up  by  Marion 
Court  House  along  the  route  followed 
by  Colonel  Lee  last  April. 

ADAMS:  True,  Colonel.  And  am 
1  to  believe  that  I  am  now  on  an  island 
in  that  self-same  river? 

HORRY :  To  be  sure,  sir.  ’Tis 
Snow’s  Island  we  are  on,  and  for  many 
months  has  been  our  one  safe  rendez¬ 
vous.  The  way  in  is  uncommon  hard 


Oooc< 


59 


FOUR  PLAYS 

OOOOC=DOOOC=DOOOC=D  OOOC - >0000=3000 .doth - innrn - mnni - >nnn  c 

for  a  Britisher ;  and  convenient  it  is  for 
us,  for  often  they  near  harry  us  out  o’ 
the  land. 

ADAMS :  As  for  the  way  in  being 
uncommon  difficult  I  believe  you,  for  as 
we  came  in  I  thought  to  myself  as  how 
every  turn  looked  as  every  other — 
enough  to  puzzle  a  Frenchman.  But 
now  I  say,  Colonel,  if  we  are  on  an 
island  truly  I  must  have  slept  as  we 
passed  over  the  surrounding  water  ! 

HORRY:  If  you  slept  on  the  back 
of  that  nag  it  speaks  well  for  your  abil¬ 
ity  sir,  for  I  dare  say  his  bones  did  rat- 
rle  as  a  Drum  Corps  on  parade. 

ADAMS :  ’Twere  not  so  bad  as  all 
that — but,  ay,  'twas  bad  enough ! 

HORRY :  Where  we  crossed  the 
swamp  is  covered  only  in  flood  time — 
that  is  except  the  small  run  which  you 
will  remember.  But  to  the  north  and 
east  the  Pee  Dee  is  pretty  wet  and  to 
the  North  and  West  Lynches  is  scarce¬ 
ly  less  so ;  to  the  South — from  which  di¬ 
rection  we  came — the  swamp  is  under 
water  only  at  times.  Remember,  sir, 
that  the  island  lies  just  below  the  junc¬ 
tion  of  Lynches  with  the  Great  Pee  Dee. 

ADAMS:  True,  I'd  almost  forgot¬ 
ten  it — and  Colonel,  I  was  likewise 
about  to  forget  that  this  is  a  military 
camp,  for  ’pon  my  word  there  are  few 
military  about. 

HORRY :  True,  Captain,  and  yet 
methinks  that  if  the  need  were  great  I 
could  gather  quite  a  few  men  from  over 
on  the  river  bank  and  up  in  the  trees. 
ADAMS:  Trees? 

HORRY:  And  why  not?  Scouts  in 
trees  have  a  wondrous  long  eyesight. 


'60 


FOUR  PLAYS 


0OOCK=DOOOC=3OOOC 


And  yet  just  now  the  forces  are  few. 
Witherspoon  is  out  to  capture  the  sup¬ 
ply  train  that  moved  from  Georgetown 
yesterday  on  its  way  to  the  Cheraws — 
and,  Captain,  may  the  Fates  treat  him 
well  for  our  supplies  are  near  to  van¬ 
ishing.  McCottry  and  his  rifles  are  up 
above  the  Town  at  the  King’s  Tree,  near 
to  Tarcote, — there  were  tidings  that  the 
British  might  move  south  from  Camden ; 
the  General  is  off  to  meet  the  scouts 
from  the  Georgetown  road.  Oscar! 

OSCAR  ( Outside )  :  Yas  Sah — 
( enters  from  the  left). 

HORRY :  When’s  the  General  ex¬ 
pected  ? 

OSCAR :  Spec’  him  ’on  set  ob  sun. 

HORRY:  That  will  do  (OSCAR 
leaves  grinning)  He  says  that  the  Gen¬ 
eral  should  be  in  by  sundown  ( looks 
at  sky) — which  is  to  say  soon — ( Con¬ 
tinues  to  look  to  the  right) — My  word, 
a  prisoner!  ( They  rise). 

( Enter  at  right  JAMES  with  BAL- 
LENTYNE,  his  prisoner,  blind-folded. 
JAMES  is  jubilant;  BALLENTYNE 

is  sad  and  apprehensive  ) . 

JAMES  ( Cheerfully )  :  Good  after¬ 
noon,  sir.  ( Saluting  HORRY,  who 
acknowledges  the  salute). 

HORRY :  Major  James,  Captain 
Adams  ( They  salute  and  bow).  The 
Major  is  one  of  the  most  daring  of  the 
younger  officers. 

JAMES  :  Tush,  Colonel,  much  ease 
is  affecting  other  than  your  form.  I 
report  Captain  Ballentyne  as  a  prisoner 
of  war.  He  and  that  precious  Ardie- 
soff  were  out  again  with  a  small  party. 
Happened  to  see  them  down  near  “The 


61 


FOUR  PLAYS 


Red  House”  and  managed  to  bag  one  of 
them  ;  Ardiesoff ,  worse  luck, — you  re¬ 
member  the  incident  at  the  Wither¬ 
spoons’  last  month — ,  was  too  quick 
for  me. 

HORRY :  Very  good  as  it  is,  Major, 
but  revenge  would  have  been  sweet,  eh  ? 
Remove  the  bandage  (JAMES  removes 
the  bandage  from  BALLENTYNE)  — 
Your  word  as  an  officer  and  a  gentle¬ 
man  not  to  absent  yourself  from  the 
camp  until  General  Marion  returns. 

BALLENTYNE :  My  word  sir. 
( Turns  to  go). 

HORRY  (Kindly)  :  Sit  with  us,  sir. 
(BALLENTYNE  looks  his  thanks. 
Looking  toward  ADAMS)  Captain 
Adams  of  General  Washington’s  staff. 
(ADAMS  and  BALLENTYNE  bow  a 
bit  stiffly.  BALLENTYNE  sits  apart 
and  says  nothing.  He  is  sad  and  down¬ 
cast)  . 

ADAMS  :  Why  the  blindman’s  buff, 
my  dear  Colonel  ? 

HORRY :  A  constant  practice  of 
ours,  sir,  to  all  except  our  own  number. 
The  way  in  is  difficult,  but  it  could  be 
learned,  and  we  are  taking  no  chances. 

(Enter  from  the  left  GENERAL 
MARION  followed  by  CAPTAIN 
POSTEL,  in  the  garb  of  a  back  woods¬ 
man.  The  adoring  OSCAR  brings  up 
the  rear.  HORRY,  ADAMS,  JAMES 
and  BALLENTYNE  rise.  All  salute 
except  BALLENTYNE.  MARION 
acknowledges  the  salute). 

HORRY :  General,  Captain  Adams 
(MARION  and  ADAMS  salute  and 
bow.  ADAMS  wonders  at  POSTEL’S 


CXXXXZT3(DC)OCZrDOOOCZ=3  nnn< - innnc — annr  toooc — 3QOQ<r--oooocrrr>QQO  czZDCKyoczZDOOOQ 

62 


FOUR  PRAYS 


queer  garb).  The  >  Captain  has  been 
out  on  a  little  scouting  expedition. 

MARION :  We  have  awaited  your 
coming  with  interest,  Captain,  and  hope 
that  you  have  had  a  pleasant  journey 
and  not  too  much  of  Horry’s  foolish¬ 
ness. 

ADAMS:  A  pleasant  journey  and 
an  interesting  as  well  I  assure  you,  sir. 

HORRY  (To' Marion)  :  James  has 
a  prisoner,  sir.  Captain  Ballentyne. 

MARION  :  ArdiesofFs  aide,  eh.  (to 
JAMES)  If  thou  hadst  been  a  bit  quick¬ 
er  the  old  bird  might  have  been  caught 
— but  better  this  than  none. 

JAMES :  Sorry  it  is  I  am,  sir,  but 
he  was  too  quick  for  us. 

MARION  (To  BALLENTYNE): 
Captain  Ballentyne ! 

BALLENTYNE:  Yes,  sir. 

MARION  :  Your  word  as  an  officer 
and  a  gentleman  that  no  more  will  you 
bear  arms  against  the  United  States  of 
^Vmcric^  r 

BALLENTYNE  :  My  word,  sir. 

MARION :  An  escort  to  George¬ 
town  will  be  furnished  you  on  the  mor¬ 
row.  (As  BALLENTYNE  starts  to 
move  off,  kindly)  Sit  with  us,  Captain. 
If  it  suits  your  convenience,  sir,  to  re¬ 
main  for  a  short  period,  I  shall  be  glad 
of  your  company  to  dinner.  ( BALLEN¬ 
TYNE’ S  eyes  express  his  thanks,  he 
bozos  slightly  and  seats  himself). 

MARION  (To  OSCAR):  How  is 
supper  ? 

OSCAR  (Grinning):  Ready,  sah. 

MARION :  Good,  bring  it  in. 

OSCAR  (still  grinning)  :  Yas  sah. 
(Exit  left  and  blozvs  conch.  Marion 


63 


FOUR  PLAYS 


and  the  others  seat  themselves  down¬ 
stage). 

MARION  (to  HORRY) :  How  goes 
everything  ? 

HORRY :  Nothing  unusual,  sir. 

MARION:  What  of  the  men? 

HORRY :  Witherspoon  reports  that 
the  train  is  moving  slowly.  He  expects 
to  close  with  it  at  dawn  tomorrow.  There 
is  no  report  from  McCottry. 

MARION :  Luck  to  Witherspoon, 
for  if  he  doesn’t  succeed  we  will  have 
only  our  wits — and  they  are  poor  pro- 
vender,  eh? 

(Enter  OSCAR  grinning,  with  roast¬ 
ed  sweet-potatoes  on  a  pine  bark  platter, 
which  he  sets  on  a  stump  in  the  midst  of 
the  group  and  leaves). 

ADAMS :  Your  force  is  not  large, 
General  ? 

MARION :  Yes  and  no.  As  a  rule 
there  are  not  over  a  hundred  men  with 
me ;  oftentimes  there  are  less  for  when 
there  is  no  need  of  them  I  send  them 
back  to  their  families  and  farms  ( Enter 
OSCAR  with  cypress-knee  bucket,  and 
gourd  dipper  which  he  places  on  the 
ground  near  the  potatoes  and  goes  out 
left)  but  when  there  is  need  of  them  I 
have  but  to  call  and  they  come. 

MARION  (Surveying  group)  :  Gen¬ 
tlemen,  I  bid  you  eat.  The  fare  is  sim¬ 
ple,  but  hunger  is  an  excellent  sauce  and 
’tis  wholesome,  as  Horry  can  testify 
(MARION  looks  at  HORRY  who  is 
rather  portly). 

(They  eat.  ADAMS  is  a  bit  surpris¬ 
ed,  BALLENTYNE’S  face  is  a  stu- 
dy). 

MARION  (Breaking  silence,  to  AD- 


64 


)OOOdIDOOOdDOOOi 


FOUR  PLAYS 


AMS)  :  General  Washington  seems  to 
be  doing  well.  His  work  all  along  has 
been  excellent.  Yet  somehow  that 
brush  at  Trenton  appealed  to  me — re¬ 
minded  me  of  our  warfare  down  here ; 
at  him  when  he’s  not  looking  and  off 
before  he  has  time  to  think. 

ADAMS :  The  commander-in-chief 
is  truly  a  great  leader.  If  he  had  but 
an  army,  the  world  would  soon  ring 
with  his  victories.  He  and  von  Steuben 
have  done  wonders,  but  the  Congress  is 
short  on  supplies  and  money.  If  he 
had  but  the  latter,  the  last  Redcoat 
would  be  leaving — and  in  a  hurry. 

MARION :  My  observation,  exact¬ 
ly,  Captain.  My  constant  hope  is  that 
he  will  get  both  the  supplies  and  the 
money.  When  that  day  comes  I  hope 
that  he  will  not  forget  the  South  for  I 
truly  believe  that  telling  blows  could  be 
struck  the  enemy  in  this  quarter. 

ADAMS :  That  such  is  General 
Washington’s  intention  I  can  assure 
you.  In  fact,  it  accounts  for  my  pre¬ 
sence  here.  And  what  with  the  prom¬ 
ised  French  aid  the  help  might  not  be 
so  long  in  coming. 

MARION  :  I  believe  that  the  enemy 
should  be  pushed  from  all  quarters.  His 
heart  is  not  so  much  in  the  war.  And 
if  we  are  but  resolute  and  patient  our 
time  will  come. 

ADAMS :  It  will  come.  Of  that  I 
am  sure.  But  in  the  meantime  the  ser¬ 
vices  of  leaders  like  yourself  are  of  in¬ 
estimable  value  to  the  country  for  were 
it  not  for  them, oftentimes  the  faint  flame 
of  Liberty  might  flicker  and  die.  Of 
the  bravery  of  your  officers  and  men  the 


65 


FOUR  PLAYS 


half  cannot  be  said.  Rest  assured,  sir, 
that  General  Washington  shall  have  a 
full  report  concern — ( All  turn  toward 
BALLENTYNE  who  has  risen). 

BALLENTYNE  ( With  hesitance, 
feelingly)  :  Gentlemen,  you  will  par¬ 
don  a  few  words  from  a  prisoner? 

( Silence  gives  assent ;  he  continues) .  I 
am  a  free-born  Englishman;  my  ances¬ 
tors  were  at  Hastings  and  at  Runny- 
Mede  with  the  gallant  Fitz-Walter. 
They  fought  for  their  rights,  I  would 
fight  for  mine,  you  are  fighting  for 
yours.  May  God  remedy  what  of  ill  I 
have  done  your  cause — I  am  glad  that 
I  was  captured ;  my  eyes  have  been 
opened.  I  know  now  that  your  cause  is 
the  right — how  else  could  you  endure 
such  hardships?  A  real  man —  a  true 
Englishman —  would  not  fight  against 
you.  As  for  myself  I  would  fight  for 
you,  but  I  cannot.  This  though  I  can 
do —  in  England  I  am  not  without  in¬ 
fluence,  it  shall  be  used  in  your  service ; 
Pitt  and  Fox  will  have  another  staunch 
supporter.  (BALLENTYNE  stalks  off 
into  forest  at  left). 

(A  moment's  silence). 

ADAMS:  A  real  Englishman  for 
you,  a  true  gentleman. 

MARION  :  The  heritage  of  genera¬ 
tions  forbids  me  to  think  too  well  of  any 
Englishman,  but  that’s  a  true  man, — 
aye — -  a  true  gentleman  (Reflectively) . 

(The  others  have  nothing  to  say). 

MARION :  Horry,  will  you  show 
Captain  Adams  and  the  Colonel  the  new 
bateau  that  Lynch  brought  in  this  after¬ 
noon.  James,  will  you  and  Postel  stay 
with  me. 


66 


FOUR  PLAYS 


<==3000cr=0000 


HORRY:  Yes,  sir.  ( Goes  out  with 
ADAMS  at  right). 

(MARION,  JAMES  and  POSTER 
are  close  together  down-stage  at  center) 

MARION  (To  JAMES)  :  Postel  is 
just  in  from  Georgetown.  They  began 
to  suspect  him  and  he  had  to  leave. 

POSTEL :  In  a  hurry,  too. 

MARION :  He  did  not  get  all  the 
information  I  desired,  especially  as  to 
the  reinforsements  Ardiesoff  is  expect¬ 
ing.  I  must  have  the  information.  Can 
you  get  it  for  me?  I  know  the  trip  will 
be  dangerous —  the  chances  are  against 
you,  it  is  not  in  the  line  of  duty,  and  to 
refuse  will  be  no  show  of  cowardice. 

JAMES  ( Quietly  hut  firmly)  :  I  will 
consider  it  a  privilege,  sir. 

MARION  ( Warmly )  :  I  thought  as 
much — (to  POSTEL)  Will  you  post 
him  as  best  you  can ;  I’ll  to  my  tent  and 
prepare  the  papers.  (MARION  moves 
tozvard  and  enters  tent). 

POSTEL :  You’ll  have  to  be  careful, 
Major.  ’Tis  a  pretty  dangerous  enter¬ 
prise  but  if — (JAME  interrupts  him). 

JAMES  :  None  o’  that  now.  There 
is  time  and  a  plenty  later.  (POSTEL 
is  surprised)  Were  you  much  about 
“The  Sturgeon’s  Head”? 

POSTEL  ( Wonderingly ):  A  fair 
bit. 

JAMES:  Did’st  see  Mistress  Nancy 
Paisley  ? 

POSTEL:  Upon  occasion. 

JAMES:  Did'st  speak  with  her? 

POSTEL:  No.  Our  acquaintance 
is  but  the  slightest  and  she  knew  me  not 
in  my  disguise.  There  was  no  chance 


67 


FOUR  PLAYS 


for  a  private  conversation  and  disclos¬ 
ure. 

JAMES :  Tell  me,  sir,  did’st  hear  or 
observe  aught  of  her  condition? 

POSTEL  ( Beginning  to  under¬ 
stand)  :  She  appeared  well  but  wor¬ 
ried.  Methinks  ’tis  her  uncle  that  doth 
worry  her  for  he  continually  scolds  at 
her —  once  did  I  see  him  attempt  to 
slap  her  (JAMES  clenches  his  fists) 
and  likewise  did  I  see  Ardiesoff,  the 
brute  of  a  sailor  who  is  now  comman¬ 
dant  there,  try  to  kiss  her  and — 

JAMES :  I  would  go  now,  sir,  were 
the  danger  multiplied  a  thousand  fold 
( With  emphasis  and  conviction) . 

AS  THE  CURTAIN  FALLS 
SCENE  III. 

SCENE  :  The  Public  Room  of  (<The 
Sturgeon’s  Head ”  a  Tavern  on  Front 
Street,  Georgetown, South  Carolina.  Two 
large  tables  and  tzvo  small  occupy  with 
the  accompanying  chairs  tzoo-thirds  of 
the  room;  the  bar  is  to  the  left;  a  stair 
at  end  of  bar  leads  upward;  there  is  a 
door  backstage  at  left  zmth  two  windows 
at  its  right.  When  the  door  is  opened 
the  tavern’s  sign  can  be  seen.  Through 
the  windows  can  be  seen  the  lighted 
houses  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 

TIME:  About  four  days  after  the 
events  of  Scene  II ;  it  is  early  evening. 

( When  the  curtain  rises  four  British 
officers,  among  whom  is  ARDIESOFF, 
are  playing  at  cards  at  one  of  the  large 
tables.  *  BALLENTYNE  looks  on.  He 
is  sad  and  morose.  Tzvo  old  cronies 
play  at  checkers  at  the  farther  of  the 
small  tables.  BROCKINGTON  is  be- 


68 


Ooooczzdoooczdooo 


FOUR  PLAYS 


hind  the  bar.  The  hand  is  played  and 
the  cards  are  being  shuffled). 

ARDIESOFF :  A  round,  Host 
Brockington,  and  make  it  Gascon  wine. 

BROCKINGTON  :  The  rarest  Gas¬ 
con  it  is,  sir.  ( Busies  himself  behind 
the  bar). 

(The  cards  are  dealt.  BROCKING¬ 
TON  places  liquor  on  table ;  officers 
reach  for  the  glasses;  ARDIESOFF 
rises;  BROCKINGTON  stands  aside). 

ARDIESOFF:  To  King  George! 
( All  rise  and  drink  with  hurrahs.  Af¬ 
ter  the  toast  is  drunk  they  resume  their 
scats) . 

ARDIESOFF :  And  more,  mine 
host — be  quick  about  it.  That  wine  is 
rarely  good. 

BROCKINGTON  :  Aye,  aye,  sir. 

ARDIESOFF :  Damme,  man,  no 
more  o’  that ;  dost  remind  me  of  my 
decks,  and  reminding  is  not  pleasant, 
that  I’m  here  on  shore  for  two  months 
yet.  (BROCKINGTON  returns  with 
the  glasses  filled). 

ARDIESOFF  ( Rising )  :  To  the 
success  of  our  armies!  ( All  rise  and 
drink  amid  louder  hurrahs — that  is  all 
except  BALLENTYNE  who  manages 
to  pour  his  on  the  floor  unobserved.  The 
officers  reseat  themselves  and  the  cards 
are  resumed.  The  play  at  checkers  con¬ 
tinues  all  the  while). 

1st  Officer  (To  BALLENTYNE): 
Why  so  silent,  Bally  ? 

2nd  Officer  (A  subaltern,  he  is  young 
and  homesick)  :  For  a  truth  thou 
should'st  be  glad  to  be  out  o’  this  mess 
— a  sight  o’  Lunnon  town  were  better 
to  me  than  the  rarest  wine. 


69 


FOUR  PLAYS 


ARDIESOFF  (to  2nd  Officer,  with 
an  ugly  leer)  :  Thou  speakest  ill,  sir. 
( Signals  for  more  liquor)  Damme,  why 
do  they  let  such  as  you  in  the  Service? 
Better  home  and  at  thy  mother’s  apron 
strings.  (  BROCKINGTON  sets  liquor 
before  Ardiesoff  and  he  drinks).  But 
if  dost  desire  home,  why  not  try  capture 
at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Marion  as  did  the 
brave  ( turns  tozvard  BALLENTYNE 
with  a  sneer)  and  excellent  Captain 
Baltfentyne?  (Silence.  ARDIESOFF 
drinks  again.  The  cards  are  laid  on  the 
table). 

ARDIESOFF  (To  BALLENTYNE, 
the  liquor  is  getting  the  better  of  him)  : 
'Twould  seem  as  if  he  did  capture  thy 
tongue  also.  A  parole —  zounds —  giv¬ 
en  to  a  swamp-living  wretch  of  an  irre¬ 
gular.  Damme,  if  thou  didst  want  to 
fight,  'twere  but  a  wasted  breath.  (BAL¬ 
LENTYNE  does  not  deign  to  answer 
him). 

3rd  OFFICER:  Well  spoken,  sir, 
and  of  a  truth  ’twere  better  acted  on 
(looks  meaningly  at  BALLENTYNE 
who  ignores  him.  Cards  are  resumed). 

VOICE  IN  DISTANCE  (off  stage)  : 


Eight  o’clock  and  all’s  well. 

BROCKINGTON:  Nancy!—  Nan¬ 
cy  ! !  NANCY ! ! !  (After  a,  moment 
NANCY  appears  on  the  stair). 

NANCY:  Yes,  sir. 

BROCKINGTON:  Take  the  bar 
whilst  I  see  to  the  kitchen. 

NANCY:  I’ll  not,  sir.  Did  I  not 
warn  you  yesterday?  Dost  think  I  am 
but  a  serving  maid  (Scornfully)  to  wait 
on  these  (Indicates  officers  with  her 
hand). 


70 


0OOOC=DOOOC==)OOO' 


FOUR  PLAYS 


(The  cards  are  dropped  and  the  offi¬ 
cers ,  until  the  exception  of  BALLEN- 
TYNE  enjoy  the  sport). 

BROCKINGTON :  Thou  art  but  a 
Whig  wench  and  none  too  good  to  wait 
upon  the  King’s  officers.  ( Officers 
laugh;  BAKLENTYNE  moves  over 
toward  her). 

ARDIESOFF :  Well  said,  mine 
host.  Well  said.  Bring  her  out. 

BROCKINGTON :  Out  and  to  the 
Commodore. 

NANCY :  Sir,  and  art  my  uncle? 

BROCKINGTON:  Thou  saidest 

truly,  and  thy  guardian  too —  give  me 
none  of  thy  sauciness,  here  ( Reaches 
toward  her  as  if  to  catch  her ;  NANCY 
tartly  slaps  him  on  the  cheek;  he  at¬ 
tempts  to  return  the  blow.  The  officers 
enjoy  the  fun  hugely). 

BALLENTYNE:  None  o’  that- 
let  her  be ! 

BROCKINGTON:  How  now  ( turn¬ 
ing ) — you  ( Scornfully ) — . 

1st  OFFICER:  Not  so  rash,  Bal- 
lentyne.  Stay  not  the  fun. 

OTHER  OFFICER:  Right-o. 

BALLENTYNE  (To  BROCKING¬ 
TON)  :  Yes —  it  is  I.  Off,  insolent 
dog!  And  quick  (With  meaning) . 

BROCKINGTON :  Now— 

BALLENTYNE :  Off— I  said. 

(Clenches  fist.  BROCKINGTON  re¬ 
treats  up  the  stair  with  a  menacing  look 
at  BALLENTYNE).  Mistress  Nancy, 
will  you  honor  us?  (Motions  toward 
the  bar). 

(NANCY  takes  her  place  back  of  the 
bar.  The  play  at  cards  is  resumed. 
BALLENTYNE  tries  to  engage  NAN- 


71 


FOUR  PLAYS 


CY  in  conversation,  but  she  pays  no  at¬ 
tention  to  him,  busying  herself  ivitli  the 
bottles  and  kegs  in  the  bar.  Getting  no 
encouragement  Ballentyne  turns  wear¬ 
ily  and  moves  toward  his  chair.  He 
seats  himself  unnoticed  by  the  other 
players  who  are  engrossed  in  the  game. 

As  he  sits,  his  face  is  toward  the  door. 

At  the  sound  of  the  opening  of  the  door, 
he  looks  up  casually  and  meets  the  eye 
of  JAMES,  who  enters  in  the  garb  o* 
a  backwoodsman.  The  recognition  is 
mutual.  BALLENTYNE  starts  to  rise 
from  his  chair  and  opens  his  mouth  as 
if  to  denounce  JAMES,  but  desists  and 
settles  back  with  a  shake  of  the  head. 

He  continues  to  watch  JAMES,  who 
moves  coolly  toward  the  bar.  NANCY 
barely  suppresses  a  scream.  Her  eyes 
follow  JAMES’  every  movement) . 

JAMES:  A  mug  o’  Jamaiky  rum, 
mum.  ( At  sound  of  his  voice  some  of 
the  officers  look  up  but  see  only  a  com¬ 
mon  backwoodsman  and  say  nothing. 

NANCY  serves  him.  They  appear  to 
talk  across  the  bar.  The  hand  is  played 
and  the  cards  are  laid  on  the  table). 

ARDIESOEF :  A  round,  my  pret¬ 
ty  miss,  and  let  it  be  the  best  o’  Scotch. 

Eight  glasses  my  pretty  one,  eight  to 
warm  the  cockles  of  our  hearts — you 
(to  checker  players) — you  (to  JAMES) 

— come  taste  good  liquor  for  once  in 
your  lives.  (The  checker-players  move 
with  alacrity,  JAMES  more  slowly, 
glancing  at  NANCY  and  raging. 

NANCY  draws  liquor  and  sets  it  on  the 
table  before  ARDIESOFF.  The  check¬ 
er  players  and  JAMES  have  drawn 

OOOC<Z^>OOOCIZDOOOCZZD  CXXK=Z;CQ0C-^(300C000( - ?OOCK-rOOOO<- — ?OOQ  < - mnru - x-mpQ 

72 


FOUR  PLAYS 


C30000000G 


near.  ARDIESOFF  rises.  The  check¬ 
er-players  reach  for  the  liquor) . 

ARDTKSOFF :  Hold,  knaves! 
Wouldst  be  before  thy  betters?  Hold. 
( They  cozver  hack). 

ARDIESOFF :  Drink  if  ye  be  loyal 
King’s  men  for  I  propose:  (Officers 
rise.  Hands  are  laid  on  the  glasses) 
“The  eternal  confounding  of  every 

d -  rebel’’  (Officers  raise  glasses, 

amid  cheers). 

JAMES:  Confound  Parliament! 

D - the  King ! 

(All  stand  hack  aghast.  NANCY 
screams.  ARDIESOFF  makes  as  if 
to  draw  his  sword.  JAMES  is  quicker 
and  floors  him  with  a  chair. 
JAMES  leaps  hack  toward  door  and 
jerks  pistol  from  within  his  coat  and 
levels  it  at  the  officers). 

JAMES  :  Gentlemen,  will  you  please 
replace  your  swords  (The  half -drawn 
weapons  are  replaced.  An  officer 
moves).  Likewise  I  would  suggest  that 
you  do  not  move — the  same  applies  to 
your  hands  (ARDIESOFF  groans). 

JAMES  (To  NANCY,  talking  quick¬ 
ly  hut  quietly  as  he  hacks  tozuard  the 
door)  :  My  horse  is  just  outside — she 
will  carry  double — open  the  door 
(NANCY  moves  to  obey.  BROCK- 
INGTON  appears  on  the  stair). 

(NANCY  returns  to  JAMES  and 
with  his  left  arm  around  her  waist  they 
go  out  closing  the  door  with  a  slam. 
They  are  seen  to  run  past  the  zvindows. 
A  moment  and  there  is  a  sound  as  of 
fast  receding  hoof-heats.  Officers 
awake  as  if  from  trance.  Checker-play¬ 
ers  are  paralyzed  with  fear.  FIRST 


iryyy - rnn< - anno  mXX3Qr~>OOOC 


73 


FOUR  PLAYS 


OFFICER  rushes  to  door  and  opens  it.) 

1st  OFFICER:  The  Guard! 

VOICE  (A- far-off)  :  Halt! 

( The  hoof -heats  continue ,  receding. 
Farther  off,  a  shot.  The  hoof-beats 
continue.  The  FIRST  OFFICER 
turns  from  the  door ) . 

1st.  OFFICER:  D - ,  they  are  in 

the  swamp  by  now.  ( Turns  toward  au¬ 
dience  and  moves  to  where  others  are 
gathered  about  the  body  of  ARDIB- 
SOFF.  BROCKINGTON  is  hasten¬ 
ing  dozvn  the  stairs.  BALLENTYNE 
stands  a  bit  aloof.) 

AS  THE  CURTAIN  FALLS. 

—THE  END.— 


74 


FOUR  PLAYS 


x)ooc=doooc=>oooO 


“Uncle  Tommy's  Harem" 

CHARACTERS 
In  Order  of  Appearance. 

ACHILLES  AGAMEMNON  BROWN ,  a  negro  servant. 
DR.  THOM  AS  LAWTON ,  A.B.,  Ad. A.,  Ph.D.,  Litt.,  a  pro¬ 
fessor  of  Hellenic  Culture. 

ED  LAWTON ,  his  nephew. 

HALIDE  KHALED  ZIA  BEY,  of  the  late  Sultan  s  harem. 

The  rising  of  the  curtain  discloses  the 
study  of  the  typical  college  professor. 

The  most  conspicuous  article  of  furni¬ 
ture  is  a  large  desk  on  the  rear  zvall, 
right,  zvith  a  bookcase  adjacent  to  it. 
and  also  against  the  rear  zvall,  left.  In 
the  bookcase  are  a  number  of  forbid¬ 
ding  looking  volumes.  Almost  in  the 
center  of  the  stage  is  a  small  table  laden 
zvith  books  ana  magazines  in  hopeless 
disarray.  Two  chairs  are  in  close  prox¬ 
imity  to  the  table.  To  the  left  rear  of 
the  center  table  and  within  easy  reach 
of  the  bookcase  is  a  comfortable  arm¬ 
chair  that  shozus  evidence  of  faithful 
service.  Along  the  wall,  left,  is  a  sofa, 
not  in  the  best  of  condition  and  at  the 
present  moment  furnishing  a  resting 
place  for  a  golf  club,  several  books  and 
a  newspaper.  To  the  right-front  is  an¬ 
other  chair.  On  the  floor  are  a  num¬ 
ber  of  scattered  papers.  On  the  wall  is 
a  curious  combination  of  prints  of  state¬ 
ly  Gods,  goddesses,  Acropoli,  and  Par- 
thenons;  and  pictures  of  Athletic  teams 
with  here  and  there  a  pair  of  beaming 
eyes  looking  down  on  the  scene  from 


75 


Oococzdoooctidcooc 


FOUR  PLAYS 

)OOOC— )OOQ< - 3000 II 


some  magazine  print.  A  number  of 
miscellaneous  articles  scattered  here  and 
there  shozv  the  lack  of  the  magical  fen ,- 
inine  touch.  Dust  is  present  in  con¬ 
spicuous  quantities. 

The  entrance  is  to  the  right-rear. 

The  rise  of  the  curtain  shows  the 
negro  servant,  Agamemnon,  brushing 
around  over  the  Professor's  papers, 
singing  to  himself.  Not  being  very  at¬ 
tentive  to  his  work  he  is  doing  more 
harm  than  good.  The  Professor  enters 
just  as  Agamemnon  brushes  a  set  of 
papers  off  the  desk.  He  is  a  scholarly 
man  of  about  40  years.  The  infrequen¬ 
cy  of  his  contact  with  the  zvorld  has 
given  him  a  mild,  abstracted  appearance. 
His  eyes  are  kindly  tho  a  bad  nearsight¬ 
edness  causes  him  to  squint  thru  his 
gold-rim  glasses.  His  head  is  slightly 
bald.  His  baggy  clothes  and  far  from 
neat  appearance  are  a  sign  either  of 
carelessness  or  of  absorption  in  more 
vital  matters. 

PROF  ( with  a  look  of  dismay )  :What 
are  you  doing,  Agamemnon  ?  How 
often  have  I  told  you  never  to  distuib 
my  papers. 

AG.  Lawdy,  Marse  Tom,  the  dust 
am  jes  so  thick  dat  I — 

PROF :  Not  another  word,  Aga¬ 
memnon.  Look  at  these  notes  for  my 
Lecture  on  the  Mycenean  Excavations. 
Scattered  all  over  the  place.  Pick  them 
up  while  I  grade  these  examination  pa¬ 
pers.  (Prof,  takes  his  seat  while  Aga¬ 
memnon  picks  up  the  papers). 

PROF :  (to  himself)  Let  me  see.  How 
did  I  word  that  first  question?  Ah,  yes. 
“Name  five  masterpieces  of  Greek  Lit- 


76 


FOUR  PRAYS 


erature.”  ( He  reads  from  the  paper  vis¬ 
ibly  straining  to  make  out  the  writing). 
“Homer’s  Illiad,  Odyssey,  Xenophon’s 
Anabasis,  Homer’s  Odyssey,  and  Illiad. 
(He  carefully  counts  the  names  on  his 
Ungers).  Yes,  that’s  right.  One-two- 
three-four-five.  This  young  man,  Has¬ 
kins,  Agamemnon,  realizes  the  inestim¬ 
able  value  that  a  course  in  Hellenic  Cul¬ 
ture  may  do  him.  I’m  sure  that  he  is 
intensely  interested  because  he  is  al¬ 
ways  borrowing  works  to  read  as  par¬ 
allel  and  on  the  last  paper  he  wrote  v!5 
more  words  than  was  necessary  and — 
why  Agamemnon,  he  even  told  me  that 
he  would  like  to  make  98  on  the  course. 
Such  laudable  ambition  (in  a  reminiscent 
cent  tone).  Certainly  Homer  and  yet  I 
thing  to  say  about  ambition  and  yet  I 
can’t  recall — well,  eh — and  he  has  such 
admirable  desires.  Yes  indeed,  I  must 
give  him  a  good  grade.  If  only  all  of  my 
students  wanted  to  learn  like  Haskins, 
and  had  such  a  prediction  and  propen¬ 
sity  for  the  study  of  the  civilization  of 
these  Greeks,  who  are  the  greatest  peo¬ 
ple  in  the  world  and  whose  influence  has 
spread  everywhere.  There  is  scarcely 
a  restaurant  or  fruit  stand  in  the  coun¬ 
try  whose  proprietor  is  not  some  son  of 
the  land  of  Hercules  and  Homer — Why 
even  Poe  has  written  of  the  glory  that 
is  Greece.  ’Tis  a  pity  that  they  have 
deteriorated  so  but  still  their  culture  is 
preserved  in  these  precious  volumes  (he 
glances  fondly  at  the  book-case)  and 
thru  my  course  in  Hellenic  Culture  the 
youth  of  America  can  have  access  to  it. 

(During  these  latter  speeches  Agamem¬ 
non  has  been  practising  hero-worship 


77 


FOUR  PLAYS 


on  the  professor  whom  he  evidently 
thinks  is  about  the  wisest  man  on  earth) 

AG:  Yes,  sar,  Marse  Tom,  you  is 
certainly  the'best  man  round  dis  here  col¬ 
lege.  But,  say,  what’s  all  dat  got  to  do 
with  dese  har  Turkeys  you  always  talkin 
about. 

PROF :  You  see,  Agamemnon,  the 
Turks  inhabit  part  of  the  land  where 
the  Greeks  used  to  live,  and  so  Pm  in¬ 
terested  in  them  too. 

AG :  Is  dat  so  ?  That  sho  am  pecu¬ 
liar.  And  you  say  you  am  interested 
in  dem  Turkey’s  just  because  dey  live 
over  by  the  Greeks. 

PROF :  Not  entirely,  not  entirely. 
They  are  a  very  interesting  people  too, 
and  have  many  peculiar  customs.  Why 
Agamemnon,  the  Turks  are  not  satis¬ 
fied  with  one  wife  but  some  of  them 
have  a  thousand.  That’s  what  you  call 
a  harem. 

AG:  Good  lor’,  Marse  Tom,  a  thou¬ 
sand  women.  Well,  that  beats  all  that 
Achilles  Agamemnon  Brown  has  ever 
heard  tell  of.  (He  shakes  his  head  in¬ 
credulously,  and  returns  to  his  work 
dropping  a  volume  or  two  as  he  tries 
to  dust  the  bookcase.  The  professor 
returns  to  his  papers. 

In  a  moment  a  sound  of  footsteps  is 
heard  and  a  young  man  enters.  He  is 
dressed  in  the  ordinary  garb  of  the  col¬ 
lege  student  who  does  not  care  to  be 
regarded  as  a  dude.  His  trousers  would 
be  better  for  a  pressing.  His  shirt  is  of 
khaki  flannel,  with  a  regulation 
black  tie.  He  wears  a  letter  szveater, 
and  a  rah-rah  hat  set  jauntily  on  the 
back  of  his  head.  The  latter,  strange 


78 


FOUR  PLAYS 


ooo  C=D00OC=Z)O0O0 


to  say,  does  not  seem  to  detract  from 
his  manly  appearance.  He  steps  quick¬ 
ly  over  to  the  Professor  apparently 
aware  that  he  is  annoying  him.  The 
latter  lays  down  his  papers  with  an  air 
of  exasperation) . 

ED:  Hi,  Uncle  Tommy.  What  der 
yer  think  about  the  Harvard  game  to¬ 
night,  huh?  Tiger  ought  to  beat  ’em 
good,  if  you  ask  me.  (Ag.  has  knocked 
over  another  volume). 

PROF.  (To  the  servant)  :  That  will 
do,  Agamemnon.  You  can  clean  up  an¬ 
other  time.  (To  Ed  remonstratively) 
Edgar,  how  many  times  have  I  told  you 
that  my  Christian  name  is  not  Tommy 
but  Thomas,  and  also  that  I  haven’t  any 
time  to  attend — ah — basketball  contests, 
and — 

ED :  But  say,  uncle,  weren’t  the 
Greeks  quite  the  stuff  on  these  Athle¬ 
tics.  A  Dago  down  the  street  told  me 
that  over  at  the  Olympic  games  the 
Greeks  were  all  the  cheese  in  track.  He 
said  they  cleaned  up  everything  and 
won  the  world  championship  2500  years 
ago 

PROF :  Yes,  but,  ah,  in  those  days 
— eh — the  athletics  were  closely  con¬ 
nected  with  the  social  and  educational 
activities  of  the  people.  Herodotus, 
even,  read  his  history  of  the  world  at 
the  Olympic  games  in — eh — 450  B.  C. 
Ah,  athletics  were  clean  in  those  days. 

ED:  Yes,  I  know  everybody  would 
be  tickled  to  death  if  Vachel  Lindsey, 
say,  were  to  give  us  a  selection  or  two 
about  Simon  Legree  and  the  Devil  dur¬ 
ing  the  halves  of  the  baseball  game. 
But  I  can’t  see  the  use  of  bothering  with 


79 


FOUR  PLAYS 


such  a  subject  as  Hellenic  Culture  any¬ 
how.  Not  for  mine.  Too  ancient  l 

PROF :  Why,  there  are  numerous 
reasons.  Homer  is — 

ED:  Yes,  there  are  numerous  rea¬ 
sons  why  fellows  take  courses.  Now 
and  then  a  guy  really  wants  to  learn  it — 
about  five  per  cent,  say.  Another  fifty 
per  cent  need  the  subject  for  graduation 
and  the  rest  pick  up  the  crips. 

PROF:  What? 

ED :  A  crip.  One  you  don’t  have 
to  put  out  on. 

PROF  :(In  despair)  :  “Crip”  and  “put 
out.”  What  language  for  a  college  man 
to  use. 

ED  ( Ignoring  him  and  taking  up  his 
former  narrative)  :  Yes,  there  are  some 
crip  courses  in  college.  I  knew  a  pro¬ 
fessor  of — eh — Italian  once  who  never 
counted  dailies  and  graded  perfect  on 
a  review  by  leaving  the  place  blank,  and 
the  easiest  way  to  get  100  was  to  get 
sick  and  be  absent,  and  then  he  was 
pretty  nearsighted  and  {He  glances  over 
at  the  professor  to  see  if  he  recognizes 
the  portrait  as  his  own,  but  the  look  of 
mingled  innocence  and  resignation  on 
the  professors  face  betrays  no  sign  of 
suspicion.  Ed.  continues  in  a  reminis¬ 
cent  tone)  and  all  the  fellows  read  mag¬ 
azines  in  class,  and  when  they  had  some¬ 
thing  else  to  do  they  would  cut  and  tell 
the  prof,  that  his  five  minutes  were  up, 
and  they  didn’t  think  he  was  coming 
and — that’s  why  some  fellows  take  Ital¬ 
ian  and  (to  himself)  Hellenic  culture. 

PROF.  (He  has  been  so  absorbed  in 
thought  that  he  has  only  half  heard  the 
above  and  completely  failed  to  recog- 


80 


OOOCK==>OOOC==>OOOi 


FOUR  PLAYS 


nize  the  portrait )  :  Yes,  I  suppose  there 
are  a  few  professors  like  that ;  but  Hel¬ 
lenic  Culture  ( His  face  brightens )  is  a 
course  of  such  absorbing  interest  that 
it  attracts  more  than  I  can  easily  handle  ; 
but  then  when  the  youths  of  America 
are  so  eager  to  learn  of  the  glories  of 
old  Greece  I  just  haven’t  the  heart  to 
turn  them  away.  ( The  professor  turns 
back  to  his  papers. 

Enter  Agamemnon  with  a  Police  Ga¬ 
zette). 

AG:  Marse  Ed,  here’s  dat  Police 
Gazette  you  as’  me  to  get  for  you. 

ED  ( Hurriedly )  :  Sssh  (He  takes  the 
Gazette. The  professor  has  looked  up  at 
Agamemnon’ s  zvords  but  has  turned 
back  to  his  papers.  He  evidently  has 
difficulty  in  making  out  some  word  for 
he  takes  off  his  glasses  and  searches  for 
a  handkerchief  to  wipe  them  off.  He  is 
apparently  unable  to  find  one). 

PROF :  Ah,  me,  I  must  have  a  hand¬ 
kerchief  to  clear  my  grasses  because  I 
can’t  make  out  whether  this  word  is 
D-e-c-i-e-v-e  or  D-e-c-e-i-v-e  and  it  is 
always  best  to  take  off  five  points  for  a 
misspelled  word.  {He  lays  dozen  his  pa¬ 
pers  and  crosses  to  the  door.  A  look 
of  suspicion  passes  over  his  face  as  he 
notices  the  paper  Ed  is  reading)  Edgar, 
what  paper  is  that? 

ED  ( Innocently )  :  The  Christian  En¬ 
deavor  World,  uncle. 

PROF.  ( Still  more  innocently)  :  Dear 
me,  I  wonder  why  they’ve  started  print¬ 
ing  it  on  pink  paper. 

ED  {He  watches  the  professor  go 
out  with  a  good-natured  smile,  and  then 
turns  to  Agamemnon)  :  Uncle  Tommy 


FOUR  PLAYS 


^(OOOCZDOCXX - X300cr~>000 < - x*mrw - mmV) 


is  a  pretty  good  old  scout,  but  this  darn 
Hellenic  Culture  is  eating  on  him  more 
and  more. 

AG :  Hit  shore  am  the  truth,  Mister 
Ed.  He’s  gittin  wuss  and  wuss.  He 
don’t  think  of  nothin’  but  dis  here  Hel- 
lacious  culture. 

ED:  I  honestly  believe  he  has  for¬ 
gotten  all  about  the  charities  he  used  to 
be  interested  in  and  all  the  beggars  that 
he  used  to  keep  in  pocket  money.  They’d 
all  starve  now  if  they  waited  for  him 
to  help  them. 

AG:  You’re  shore  speakin  the  truth, 
Mister  Ed.  He  don’t  care  about  no¬ 
thin  lessen  it’s  about  seven  i  thousand 
years  old.  What  he  needs,  Mister  Ed, 
is  a  wife. 

ED  :  A  what  ?  Why,  Agamemnon, 
Uncle  Tommy  would  faint  if  a  woman 
spoke  to  him.  But,  by  George,  you’re 
right.  If  a  woman  had  gotten  hold  of 
him  young  enough,  she  might  have  kept 
him  from  being  so  nutty,  because  I 
know  the  old  codger’s  all  right  at  heart. 
Just  has  to  be  mixed  up  in  some  row 
about  wooden  horses  in  Troy  or  what 
time  the  sun  rises  in  Greece. 

AG:  Yas,  sah.  He  don’t  talk  about 
nothin’  but  dem  Greeks  cept’n  when  he 
gets  to  talking  about  them  Turks. 

ED:  Yes,  I  believe  he  gets  absorbed 
in  the  Turks  just  because  they  live  over 
by  the  Greeks.  Why  he  studies  Turk¬ 
ish  customs  like  I  do  the  sporting  col¬ 
umns. 

AG:  Yassah,  he  told  me  a  heap  bout 
dem  Turks.  He  was  jes  a  minute  ago 
telling  me  bout  dem  Turks  not  bein’ 
satisfied  wid  one  wife  but  havin’  bout 


Ooooc 


>OOOC - )OOQC 


82 


FOUR  PLAYS 


a  thousand.  What  do  yer  call  dem 
things,  Mister  Ed? 

ED:  Harems,  Agamemnon  {laugh¬ 
ing). That’s  what  Uncle  Tommy  needs. 
A  harem  certainly  would  wake  him  up. 
{At  this  juncture  the  professor  enters 
with  his  glasses  in  hand  busily  rubbing 
them  with  his  hanker  chief .  Under  his 
arm  he  carries  a  newspaper) .  Evening 
paper  is  not  out  yet  is  it? 

PROF  ( Grudin gly )  :  Of  course  it’s 
the  evening  paper. 

ED:  Lemme  see.  {He  takes  the 
paper).  Why,  uncle,  that’s  March  8th 
and  this  is  the  31st. 

PROF  {Hating  to  admit  his  absent- 
minded  mistake)  :  Well,  isn’t  the  news 
there  just  the  same?  And  anyhow  I 
see  an  article  on  Turkey — an  intensely 
interesting  people ;  positively  absorbing 
{He  seats  himself  in  his  favorite  chair 
and  starts  reading  the  article.  Aga¬ 
memnon  who  has  been  making  a  pre¬ 
tence  of  cleaning  up  now  exits.  Ed 
walks  over  and  glances  over  his  uncle's 
shoulders.  The  professor  looks  up  with 
a  gesture  of  annoyance  and  burrows 
deeper  down  into  his  chair.  Suddenly 
Ed.  grabs  the  paper  with  an  exclama¬ 
tion ,  Gosh,  this  looks  interesting.  He 
commences  to  read.  The  professor  is 
dumfounded  at  what  he  regards  as  an 
unpardonable  breach  of  etiquette ,  but 
during  the  reading  of  the  article  inter¬ 
est  triumphs  over  anger.) 

ED  {Reading  aloud)  : 

SEEKING  MATES  FOR  MEMBERS 
OF  HAREM 

ALL  SELECTED  FOR  THEIR 


83 


FOUR  PLAYS 


BEAUTY,  YOUTH  AND  FIGURE 
GIFTS  TO  THE  SULTAN 
MUST  FIND  HUSBANDS  OR 
THEY  WILL  STARVE 

Constantinople,  March  5  (By  the  As¬ 
sociated  Press)  Rafet  Pasha  is  trying 
to  find  husbands  for  150  members  of 
the  former  Sultan’s  harem.  The  young 
women  range  in  age  from  17  to  35  years. 
All  of  them  are  penniless. 

Since  the  Sultan’s  flight  the  govern¬ 
ment  has  been  supporting  these  women 
but  now  it  has  decided  that  they  must 
shift  for  themselves.  Most  of  the  wo¬ 
men  are  described  as  strikingly  attract¬ 
ive. 

“It  ought  not  to  be  difficult  to  find 
husbands  or  protectors  for  these  wo¬ 
men”,  said  a  prominent  member  of  the 
Relief  Commission  here  today.  “They 
were  all  selected  for  their  beauty,  youth 
and  figure.  Most  of  them  were  gifts 
to  the  Sultan  from  Governors  of  the 
provinces.  They  have  matchless  com¬ 
plexions,  dark  eyes,  and  long  chestnut- 
colored  hair.  All  of  them  are  extreme¬ 
ly  loving  and  affectionate. 

“Since  their  imperial  master  has  left 
them  without  support  we  must  find 
husbands  for  them  or  they  will  starve. 
The  interest  of  any  charitable  institu¬ 
tion,  or  any  private  benevolence  in  Am¬ 
erica  would  be  appreciated.  Communi¬ 
cations  should  be  addressed  to  Dr.  J.  H. 
Albright  of  the  American  Near-East 
Relief  Committee.” 

(At  this  juncture  the  professors  face 
brightens  and  for  a  moment  loses  its 
scholarly  cast.) 


84 


PROF:  Old  Jack  Albright!  Well, 
I  declare !  The  last  letter  I  had  from 
him  he  didn’t  mention  trying  to  help 
these  poor  women. 

ED  :  Oh,  uncle,  buy  me  one. 

PROF  ( For  the  moment  he  is  the 
dignified  upholder  of  the  public  morals 
and  speaks  sternly)  :  Young  man,  don’t 
be  vulgar.  (Ed  is  slightly  taken  aback 
by  the  professor's  vehemence.  The  lat¬ 
ter  takes  the  paper  from  Ed,  and  hold¬ 
ing  it  in  his  left  hand  strikes  on  it  with 
his  right  for  emphasis  and  begins  in  the 
tone  of  a  prohibition  lecture).  Why,  this 
indicating  the  paper)  is  a  challenge  to 
humanity,  to  the  compassion  of  the 
world.  The  idea  of  the  Sultan  turning 
these  poor  women  out  of  doors — 

ED :  But  uncle,  I  thought  you  al¬ 
ways  said  that  harems  were  disgraceful. 

PROF :  I  did ;  but  then  this  is  even 
more  dastardly — turning  them  out  when 
be  got  tired  of  them  and  ( looking  at  the 
paper  for  a  corroboration  of  his  state¬ 
ment)  and  without  a  penny,  too. 

ED :  Oh,  I  don’t  guess  he  got  tired 
of  them.  I  suppose  they  wanted  too 
many  hats,  and  candy  and  flowers. 
Gosh,  maybe  a  harem  full  of  flappers 
wouldn't  keep  a  fellow  broke.  No  won¬ 
der  he  turned  ’em  away  without  a 
penny. 

PROF  ( Ignoring  him)  :  Dastardly,  I 
say,  dastardly  and  heartless.  Why  no 
man  with  a  heart  could  refuse  to  help 
them.  If  only  I  were  over  there  and 
had  a  chance  to  do  a  little  something  my¬ 
self.  It  would  be  a  true  test  of  bro¬ 
therly  love  and  Christian  charity.  Did 
not  Socrates  say,  “To  pity  distress  is 


FOUR  PLAYS 


but  human/'  and  somebody  else,  maybe 
it  was  Plutarch,  said,  ‘‘The  charities  of 
life  are  more  than  all  ceremonies.”  And 
Homer  ( He  pauses  in  doubt )  certainly 
Homer  has  said  something  about  com¬ 
passion. 

ED  ( Impatiently  and  with  a  hint  of 
sarcasm)  :  Naturally,  naturally.  Plomer 
was  a  Greek.  He  MUST  have  had 
SOMETHING  to  say  about  EVERY 
subject. 

PROF :  Edgar,  that  is  entirely  be¬ 
side  the  question.  The  thing  under 
discussion  is  how  any  man  with  a  soul 
could  refuse  to  aid  these  heartbroken 
females.  Pm  sure  Homer  has  some¬ 
thing  to  say  about  grieving,  neglected, 
penniless  women,  thrown  out  into  the 
cruel,  cruel  world.  Why,  it  will  be 
detrimental  to  their  morals  to  say  the 
least.  If  only  I  had  a  chance  to  help. 

ED  (Still  more  impatiently )  :  Why 
don’t  you  write  to  Albright  for  one. 

PROF  (Enigmatically)  :  Maybe  I 
shall.  Maybe  I  shall. 

ED  (Aside — mockingly)  :  Maybe  I 
shall.  Why  a  woman  would  scare  you 
to  death — and  if  you  had  to  care  for  a 
woman  just  out  of  a  Turkish  harem; 
Gosh  you’d  even  forget  to  meet  that 
Hellenic  Culture  class ;  and  I  don’t  ever 
remember  you  cutting  a  class  since  I’ve 
been  around  here. 

PROF  (Ar  gum  entirely)  :  Of  course 
not.  When  the  student  pays  so  much 
for  a  college  education,  it  is  inconsider¬ 
ate  of  a  professor  to  deprive  him  of  it. 
Why,  it  is  little  short  of  robbery;  for 
the  New  England  Association  of  Col¬ 
leges  has  computed  that  each  class  costs 


86 


FOUR  PLAYS 


'CXOOC=DOOOC=DCXDCO 


the  student  exactly — let  me  see —  I  think 
if  is,  eh  (A  call  outside ,  “ Ed ”,  louder. 
“ED!”) 

ED  {In  disgust)  :  Oh,  don’t  strain 
yourself,  uncle,  let  the  Accounting  class 
do  it  for  you  or  see  if  Homer  hasn’t 
something  to  say  about  it.  {He  turns  to 
the  door  with  the  air  of  a  victor). 

PROF :  {Staring  after  him  with  a 

questioning  look  that  seems  to  ask, 
“What  is  the  college  student  coming 
to?”)  But — eh — eh — 

ED  {Turning  around  savagely)  :  Ah 
what  you  need  is  a  woman ;  a  wild  wo¬ 
man  to  cheer  you  up  a  little — and  a 
harem  full  of  women  wouldn’t  hurt  any. 
It  IS  a  pity  that  Albright  can’t  sent  you 
his  harem  to  take  care  of.  You  might 
forget  that  Hellenic  culture — ten  sec¬ 
onds.  {During  the  above  speech  Aga¬ 
memnon  gets  in  a  word.) 

AG:  Mister  Ed,  a  friend  of  yours 
wants  to  see  you. 

PROF. :  {Almost  speechless)  :  But 
Edgar — eh — 

ED :  And  I  haven’t  any  time  to  lis¬ 
ten  to  you  now.  Somebody  wants  to 
see  me. 

PROF  {He  looks  after  the  depart¬ 
ing  figure  as  if  trying  to  solve  the  prob¬ 
lem  of  the  younger  generation,  and  then 
turns  to  Agamemnon  who  has  watched 
the  latter  portion  of  the  argument  in 
high  glee)  :  Dear  me,  Agammnon,  these 
young  men  have  no  soul,  no  compassion. 
What  is  the  world  coming  to !  How  dis¬ 
respectfully  Edgar  spoke  to  me,  and  how 
slightingly  he  talks  of  these  poor,  for¬ 
lorn  women. 

AG:  Oh,  Mister  Ed  don’t  mean  no 


87 


FOUR  PLAYS 


harm,  Marse  Tom.  He’s  alius  runnin’ 
on  some  foolishness. 

PROF  ( Again  looking  up  from  his 
papers )  :  I  have  half  a  mind  to  write 
Tack  Albright,  and  tell  him  I  can  care 
for  one  of  these  forsaken  creatures,  if 
they  are  not  accustomed  to  too  much 
luxury. 

AG:  You  don’t  mean  you’s  gwint- 
ter  have  a  harem  in  dis  house.  We  ain’t 
got  no  room  for  no  thousand  women. 
Why— 

PROF :  What  are  you  talking  about, 
Agamemnon  ?  I  simply  mean  that  I 
would  be  responsible  for  her  support.  I 
could  send  her  to  the  Associated  Chari¬ 
ties  or  elsewhere.  But  then  there  are 
charities  nearer  home ;  a  call  for  some¬ 
thing  every  day.  Why  these  students 
have  even  approached  me  for  a  contri¬ 
bution  to  a  fund  to  buy  a  tiger  for  a 
mascot  to  some  athletic  team.  The  idea ! 
And  I  never  go  to  a  game.  Such  Tom¬ 
my  rot !  Such  waste  of  time,  ah  me ! 

AG:  You  don’t  intend  to  insinuate 
that  these  here  boys  am  goin’  to  have  a 
tiger  aroun’  here.  In  dat  case  here’s 
where  Agamemnon  am  done  quit. 

PROF :  Such  foolishness,  Agamem¬ 
non,  of  course  they  will  have  the 
tiger  in  a  cage.  But  now  I  must  finish 
these  papers ;  but  I  might  have  to  write 
Albright  that  I  can  take  care  of  one  of 
those  poor  ladies  for  him.  (He  turns 
again  to  his  papers. 

Agamemnon  is  pottering  around  the 
room.  Enter  Ed  with  a  cryptic  smile. 
He  glances  speculatively  over  at  the 
Prof,  who  shows  decided  annoyance  at 
the  interruption.  Ed  drops  into  a  chair 


88 


FOUR  PLAYS 


end  picks  up  a  ponderous  volume  and 
buries  his  head  in  it.  The  professor 
seems  to  be  placated  at  actually  seeing 
Ed  studying.  In  a  moment  the  bell 
rings.  Ed  jumps  up  and  goes  to  see 
who  is  at  the  door.  In  a  few  seconds 
he  returns ,  bursting  excitedly  into  the 
room.) 

ED :  Say,  uncle,  there  is  a  swell 
looking  Jane  down  there  to  see  you. 

PROF  ( Taken  aback):  But,  Edgar, 
I  don’t  know  any  lady  named  Jane. 

ED :  I  didn’t  say  her  NAME  was 
Jane. 

AG:  Aside  Mebbe  dis  am  one  of 
them  thousand  women  Marse  Tom  am 
desirous  of  takin’  care  of. 

PROF :  But,  Edgar,  I  don’t  know 
of  ANY  lady  who  should  want  to  see 
me. 

ED :  Ah,  I  don’t  know  why  she 
wants  to  see  you  either,  but  there  she  is. 

PROF  ( A  shadow  of  wounded  van¬ 
ity  passes  over  his  face  at  Ed’s  vaords, 
but  he  starts  to  rise)  :  Well,  I’ll  go — 

ED :  Oh  don’t  bother.  Let  Aga¬ 
memnon  go.  I  think  she  has  some  sort 
of  letter  for  you. 

( The  professor  is  perceptibly  curious 
and  uncertain,  but  not  exactly  dis¬ 
pleased  at  the  idea  of  a  woman  calling 
on  him.  Unconsciously  he  runs  his 
hand  thru  his  hair ,  feels  his  bald-spot 
and  zvithdraws  it  quickly.  Next,  he 
arranges  his  tie  and  awkwardly  rubs 
one  foot  on  the  other  to  remove  any 
conspicuous  dust  on  his  shoes.  A  sound 
of  footsteps  is  heard  and  in  a  moment 
Agamemnon  steps  aside  to  usher  in — 
Halide  Kaled  Zia  Bey. 


89 


FOUR  PLAYS 


Halide  is  dressed  in  an  extravagant 
costume  that  owes  part  of  its  conception 
to  the  East  and  part  to  the  West.  A 
badly-fitting  skirt  of  cheap  material 
gives  a  resemblance  of  the  West  but  the 
headdress  and  waist  might  be  mistaken 
for  Turkish.  The  slippers  that  Halide 
wears  bear  a  strange  resemblance  to  the 
product  of  Japan ,  while  the  shell  rim¬ 
med  glasses  that  form  the  most  con¬ 
spicuous  portion  of  the  out-la7idish  at¬ 
tire  smack  greatly  of  the  up-to-date 
American  optician.  As  she  advances 
the  professor  s  eyes  follow  her  wonder- 
in  gly  as  if  he  can  hardly  believe  his 
senses.  Ed  follows  behind  hardly  re¬ 
straining  his  glee — Agamemnon  does 
not  know  what  to  make  of  the  new  ar¬ 
rival.  ) 

HAL  {In  perfect  English)  :  Is  this 
the  professor  Thomas  Lawton? 

AG  (Aside)  :  If  this  ain’t  the  dod- 
beatin’est  female  Achilles  Agamem¬ 
non  Brown  have  ever  seen. 

PROF:  ( Stuttering )  Yes — but — eh — 
eh  (and  then  hurriedly)  :  but  there  must 
be  come  mistake. 

HAL  (Coming  nearer)  :  But,  no, 
professor,  your  name  is  the  very  one 
that  Dr.  Albright  gave  me. 

AG:  Well,  I  be  dodbeat  if  Marse 
Tom  ain’t  goin’  to  have  them  thousand 
women  after  all. 

PROF :  That  will  do,  Agamemnon. 
Go  down  stairs  (Turning  to  Halide)  Dr. 
Albright,  he  gave  you  my  name? 

HAL:  Yes,  and  he  told  me  that  you 
had  a  good  heart  and  he  was  sure  that 
you  would  care  for  me  and  love  me 
and — 


0<>3OCr3<XXX=ZZK>DOCZ=3OOC)C=DC)OOC=DOO0  none — inooc - mnni - >nnn  t - vtotv - 

90 


four  plays 


PROF  ( Now  thoroughly  aroused)  : 
Impossible !  Surely  there  is  some  mis¬ 
take. 

HAL:  Ah,  no,  professor,  I  have  a 
letter. 

PROF :  Let  me  have  it.  (He  seizes 
the  letter,  glances  at  the  inscription  and 
seeing  that  it  is  really  for  him  tears  it 
open.  In  the  meantime  Halide  as  if 
tired  from  her  journey  throws  herself 
down  on  the  couch  with  apparent  dis¬ 
regard  to  the  amount  of  lower  limbs 
showing.  The  professor,  before  be¬ 
ginning  the  letter  follows  her  with  a 
decided  air  of  disapproval.  Then  he 
turns  to  read  aloud  from  the  letter). 
“Dear  Thomas : 

“Beyond  a  doubt  you  will  think  that 
I  am  taking  an  unprecedented  liberty 
in  doing  what  I  have  without  warning 
you,  or  gaining  your  consent.  However, 
I  recalled  your  compassionate  heart  and 
ever  readiness  to  help,  and  knowing 
your  interest  in  all  things  in  this  part 
of  the  world  I  have  taken  the  chance  of 
sending  you  one  of  my  poor  women  that 
you  might  care  for  her.  As  you  surely 
know  from  the  Press  Dispatches  the 
Sultan  turned  them  away  without  a 
cent  and  if  you  cannot  provide  for  her 
out  of  the  goodness  of  your  heart  and 
well-known  compassion  I  can’t  imagine 
how  they  will  ward  off  starvation.” 

( During  all  the  above  Bd  has  been 
seated  beside  Halide  on  the  sofa  eyeing 
her  as  Romeo  would  Juliet.  Halide 
slips  her  hand  into  his  and  looks  at  him 
coyly.  At  this  juncture  the  prof,  looks 
up.) 

PROF :  Edgar,  what  do  you  mean 


91 


QOOOCIIDOOCxrTTDCXX)' 


FOUR  PLAYS 


by  trying  to  become  familiar  with  this 
eh —  this — eh — poor  lady?  (Ed  releases 
Halide’s  hand  and  the  professor  returns 
to  the  letter). 

“Her  name  is  Halide  Kaled  Zia  Bey 
and  she  differs  from  many  of  the  Sul¬ 
tan's  wives  in  that  she  is  highly  intel¬ 
lectual.  That  has  much  to  do  with  my 
sending  her  to  you.  She  is  very  inter¬ 
ested  in  Hellenic  Culture  and  was  the 
Sultan’s  English  reader  and  interpreter. 
She  translated  for  him  all  the  stories  in 
‘The  Argosy’  All-Story  Weekly’,  ‘Life’, 
and  ‘The  Saturday  Evening  Post’.  As 
you  surely  know  these  are  the  Sultan’s 
favorite  periodicals.  Halide  is  interest¬ 
ed  in  Homer  also,  and  knows  most  of  it 
by  heart.  In  fact  she  was  a  present  to 
the  Sultan  from  the  Governor  of 
Smyrna  and  is  probably  of  Greek  ex¬ 
traction.  As  soon  as  things  calm  down 
in  this  part  of  the  world  I  will  have  an 
authority  in  heraldry  look  up  her  fam¬ 
ily  tree. 

“But  I  would  not  have  you  think  for 
a  moment  that  she  is  altogether  of  the 
cold  intellectual  type.  On  the  contrary 
she  is  very  loving — ” 

ED  (Interrupting  him  after  a  fond 
look  at  Halide)  :  Gee,  that’s  GREAT. 

PROF :  Young  man,  don’t  be  vul¬ 
gar.  Miss  Halide,  I  think  you  had  bet¬ 
ter  come  over  here.  (Halide  turns  to  re¬ 
ceive  a  whisper  from  Ed  that  she  an¬ 
swers  with  a  smile  and  then  going  to 
the  professor,  much  to  his  surprise,  she 
flops  down  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  and 
bends  lovingly  over  him.  He  tries  to 
ignore  her  and  returns  to  the  letter.) 

— '“She  is  very  loving  and  needs 


92 


FOUR  PLAYS 


love  on  the  part  of  others  to  keep  her 
from  being  unhappy — ” 

ED  ( Enthusiastically )  Let  me  see  to 
it  that  she  gets  the  loving. {He  soon  cools 
dozvn  under  the  withering  gaze  of  the 
professor ,  who  resumes  his  reading.) 

— “Be  kind  to  her,  Thomas,  and 
she  will  cherish  you  always  and  besides 
you  will  have  performed  a  remarkable 
deed  of  Christian  charity.  I  know  you 
will  not  fail  me. 


JACK  ALLBRIGHT. 


“P.  S.  Pardon  my  typing  this  letter, 
old  chap,  but  I  am  rushing  around  like 
a  house  afire  trying  to  care  for  these 
poor  women  and  I  am  forced  to  dictate 
it  to  my  stenographer.” 

( During  the  latter  part  of  this  letter 
Halide  has  been  closer  over  the  profes¬ 
sor  to  Ed’s  evident  amusement.  As  the 
professor  looks  up  from  the  letter  their 
faces  almost  touch.  The  professor  jerks 
back  his  head  abruptly.) 

PROF :  But,  young  lady,  this  fam¬ 
iliarity  is  unpardonable. 

ED  :  Aw,  let  the  poor  girl  alone, 
uncle,  didn’t  the  letter  say  that  she  needs 
loving  and  cherishing  and  all  that? 

HAL  ( Innocently )  :  And  isn’t  he  to  be 
my  husband? 

PROF :  Husband  !  Shades  of  Her¬ 
cules.  {He  jumps  up  greatly  agitated.) 

HAL :  Certainly.  The  good  teach¬ 
er  at  Mr.  Albright’s  told  me  that  the 
man  who  takes  care  of  me  must  be  my 
husband.  It  is  written  against  in  the 
Good  Book,  and  if  I  wasn’t  a  good  little 
girl  I  would  go  down  to  an  awful  place, 
it  said. 


93 


FOUR  PLAYS 


ED :  Certainly.  That  is  exactly 

right.  Now  Homer  would  say — 

PROF :  This  is  no  time  to  talk  about 
Homer  (He  sits  dozim)  and  this  is  pos¬ 
itively  indecent  ( Almost  rudely  he 
shoves  the  girl  from  him.  She  rearrang¬ 
es  her  hair  and  pulls  out  a  powderpuff. 
Some  of  the  powder  is  blown  on  the 
professor  who  starts  coughing) .  I  did¬ 
n't  know  they  had  powderpuffs  in 
Turkey. 

(Agamemnon  slips  in  unnoticed.  He 
is  very  much  interested  in  what  he  re¬ 
gards  as  a  good  show,  but  is  still  unde¬ 
cided  zvhat  to  make  of  it.) 

HAL:  Ah,  but  the  Americans 
brought  us  all  the  great  things  of  civil¬ 
ization.  (She  runs  and  puts  her  arm 
around  the  embarrassed  professor.) 

AG:  Will  yer  look  at  that  woman 
loving  Marse  Tom?  (He  is  unable  to 
restrain  his  glee  and  is  doubled  over  in 
laughter.  The  professor  is  too  busy 
with  his  own  thoughts  and  troubles  to 
notice  him.  He  turns  away  his  head  in 
an  effort  to  rid  himself  of  the  image  of 
the  girl.) 

HAL:  Uzuma  benden  a  yirma. 

PROF:  Huh? 

HAL  (Very  innocent)  :  Oh,  pardon 
me,  I  thought  you  were  the  Sultan.  In  . 
English  I  mean,  “Don’t  turn  away  your 
face.” 

AG:  I  declar’  dis  shore  am  funny, 
dis  here  female  thinking  Marse  Tom 
am  one  of  dem  Sultans  dat  keeps  a 
thousand  women. 

PROF :  Agamemnon,  what  are  you 
doing  here? 

HAL  (Trying  to  soothe  him  with 


94 


0OCXX=T3O0OC=D00Oi 


FOUR  PLAYS 


gesture  and  with  words)  :  Ben  aglarum 
sen  gul. 

ED:  Well,  that  beats  all.  Making 
love  to  him  in  Turkish. 

PROF  ( Again  shoving  the  girl 
away,  and  getting  up)  :  But  this  is  im¬ 
possible.  Absolutely  disgraceful !  What 
will  my  confreres  of  the  faculty  think — 
and  the  Board  of  Trustees.  Why — eh 
— they  will  accuse  me  of  living  in  a 
state  of — eh — 

ED :  But,  uncle,  you  will  only  have 
to  marry  her 

PROF :  What — eh — marry  a  woman 
out  of  a  harem!  Unheard  of!  What 
do  you  think  I  am  ? 

ED:  Yes,  I  guess  you  would  have 
a  hard  time  keeping  up  with  her. 

PROF :  That  is  beside  the  question. 
It  is  impossible,  I  say. 

HAL  ( During  the  above  colloquy 
she  appears  undecided  as  to  her  action 
but  now  she  conies  up  and  looking  coyly 
into  the  professor's  face  says :  Derden- 
den  den  oldum  zabun.) 

PROF :  No,  no,  it  is  impossible.  My 
reputation  would  be  ruined ;  my  house¬ 
hold  upset ;  my  hours  of  study  deranged, 
my — eh ;  and  I  might  not  have  time  to 
grade  my  Hellenic  Culture  papers  and 
— eh — 

ED :  But,  uncle,  think  of  your  well- 
known  compassion. 

PROF :  Compassion  be  hanged. 

ED :  But  only  an  hour  ago  you  said 
that  it  was  a  challenge  to  humanity  and 
that  no  man  with  a  heart  could  turn  one 
of  the  women  away — poor  women. 

PROF :  But — eh — such  things  all 
depend  on  circumstances.  Perhaps 


95 


FOUR  PLAYS 


somebody  else  but  not  me — I — eh — I — 

ED  ( Ignoring  his  protest )  :  And  now 
Providence  has  given  you  a  chance  of 
being  a  good  Samaritan. 

PROF :  Providence !  I’d  call  it  the 
work  of  the  devil. 

HAL  ( Apparently  greatly  shocked)  : 

Oh! 

ED  (In  a  tone  of  remonstrance)  : 

Uncle ! 

PROF :  Oh,  I  guess  she’s  heard 
worse  than  that  in  a  Turkish  harem. 

HAL  ( Holding  her  hands  over  her 
ears)  :  Oh  how  could  you  suggest  such 
a  thing.  Oh,  such  an  awful  man  (She 
looks  appealingly  at  Ed.) 

ED  (He  goes  to  her  and  puts  his 
arm  around  her  waist)  :  That’s  all  right 
little  girl,  don't  cry. 

PROF :  Edgar,  leave  that  woman 
alone. 

ED  (Sarcastically)  :  Excuse  me.  I 
didn’t  know  you  wanted  her,  but  of 
course  when  I  consider  your  well-known 
compassion  and  milk  of  human  kind¬ 
ness  I’d  hate  to  make  you  jealous. 

PROF :  Drat  compassion !  Drat 
kindness ! 

ED  :  But  Homer — 

PROF :  Homer  has  nothing  at  all 
to  say  about  taking  care  of  women  that 
the  Sultan  can’t  take  care  of  himself. 

ED  (With  an  air  of  thanksgiving ): 
At  last  Homer  has  failed  him.  Homer 
has  nothing  to  say  in  this  situation.  Well 
I  be  jiggered.  (A  noise  resembling  foot¬ 
steps  is  heard  outside.) 

PROF  (In  great  alarm).  What’s  that? 
Eh — if — eh  the — eh  this  heathenish  and 
wild  looking  woman  is  found  here  I — 


0CCC<Z=30CXXI=DCXX)C=3  Qooc — ^ocra^^ociotnoot — >nnr>< - >non< innn  e — aonr* — ~>nooQ 

96 


oh,  I  will  be  asked  for  my  resignation. 
Eh — hide  somewhere.  (As  the  noise 
grows  louder). 

HAL:  Who  is  it?  Oh,  I’m  so  afraid 
of  these  stern,  cold  looking  men  with 
long  faces  Fve  seen  around  here.  They 
don’t  look  human. 

ED :  I  just  wonder  if  she  means  the 
faculty. 

HAL :  Oh,  protect  me  ( She  rushes  to 
the  professor  and  buries  her  head  on  his 
shoulder.  He  is  terror-stricken  with 
the  fear  of  detection  and  sinks  into  the 
chair,  dragging  Halide  with  him.  In 
the  fall  Halide  s  wig  comes  off  and  she 
is  seen  to  be  a  man.)  Oh,  my  hair ! 

PROE  (His  mouth  wide  with  amaze¬ 
ment)  :  Why,  it  was  a  wig! 

HAL  (Seeing  the  game  is  up)  :  You 
didn’t  expect  a  man  to  have  hair  like 
that,  did  you?  (no  longer  trying  to  dis¬ 
guise  her  voice.) 

PROF.:  Are  you  a  man?  And  you 
weren’t  sent  from  Turkey  by  Albright? 
And  I  haven’t  got  to  take  care  of  you. 
And — 

AG  (During  the  above  speech  he 
has  stuck  his  head  in  the  door.  His 
eyes  bulge  wide  with  amazement  when 
he  sees  Halide  without  his  (her)  wig.) 
Well  I  do  declare!  Marse  Tom’s  har¬ 
em  ain’t  no  harem  after  all. 

HAL  (Breaking  in  with  injured  dig¬ 
nity)  :  I  hope  Pm  a  man. 

PROF  (Still  doubtingly)  And  you’ve 
never  been  in  a  Turkish  harem? 

HAL :  Of  course  not.  Lead  me  to 
one  though,  and  I’ll  do  my  best  to  get 
in  for  you. 


Oooc< 


97 


FOUR  PLAYS 

QOOOCZDOCOC~~>OCOC=?  none — in on< — inmnm; - inont — looncrrnooo  c=DOOOC=3CODO 


PROF :  And  your  name’s  not  Hal¬ 
ide  Kaled  Zia — 

HAL:  Not  at  all,  not  at  all.  My 
name  is — 

PROF  ( This  moment  recognising 
him)  :  Why  you’re — you’re  in  my  Hell¬ 
enic  Culture  class — why — your  name  is 
Haskins. 

HAL  (As  if  a  great  problem  has 
been  solved )  :  Exactly. 

PROF  (The  truth  of  the  whole  joke 
now  beginning  to  dawn  upon  him.  He 
is  so  angry  that  he  stutters)  :  Why,  Sir, 
t-t-this  is  atrocious ;  unheard  of ;  unpre¬ 
cedented,  unwarranted  (He  pauses  for 
another  word)  outrageous  (still  more 
angry)  Why,  sir,  Pll  have  you  expelled. 
Sir,  I’ll — 

HAL :  Ta-ta,  professor,  calm  down. 
I  quit  college  yesterday.  In  fact,  I  just 
came  by  to  tell  Ed  goodbye. 

PROF  (Realizing  that  his  anger  is 
useless)  :  Well,  well,  it  was  cleverly 
done.  It  reminds  me  of  that  famous 
scene  in  Homer  where— 

ED :  Aw,  uncle,  let’s  forget  Homer 
just  for  tonight. 

AG:  Yessah,  Marse  Tom,  you  been 
worrying  aroun’  too  much  about  dis  here 
Hellacious  Culture  and  desehere  Tur¬ 
keys  that  have  more  ’an  a  thousand  wo¬ 
men. 

PROF :  Well,  maybe  I  have,  maybe 
I  have.  Perhaps  I  am  a  trifle  too  schol¬ 
arly,  a  trifle  too  self-centered.  But 
now  ■  it’s  time  for  supper,  isn’t  it  Aga¬ 
memnon  ? 

AG:  Yassah,  Yassah. 

ED :  I  knew  it  would  take  a  woman 
to  wake  you  up,  uncle  Tommy. 


98 


FOUR  PLAYS 


HAL :  Don’t  call  me  no  woman. 

PROF :  Well,  well,  maybe  you  were 
right,  this  once. 

ED:  And  after  supper,  Uncle,  I 
know  you’re  going  to  throw  those  Hell¬ 
enic  Culture  papers  in  the  fire  and  come 
with  us  down  to  the  game. 

PROF :  Yes,  maybe  I  shall.  May¬ 
be  I  shall.  Because  I  am  sure  that 
Homer — 


CURTAIN. 


W.  P.  Gallaway. 


7 


99 


